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KLARENC WADE MAK. M- D. 

(the fool-eiller) 

HUMORIST. NOVELIST AND POET 

BORN IN IOWA AND REARED IN THE MIDDLE WEST 

























* 







































RED KLOVER 


KLARENC WADE MAK, M.D. 

(THE FOOL KILLER) 

Author of Mak's Grammar; Laws of Health; Mental Dynamite; Echoes from the 
Heart; The Fool-Killer; Padded Lightning; Double Fist; The Outlaw and 
Suffrajet; A Strange Case; A Super-Crook; Joe's Baby; A Rare Jewel; 

Dr. Nobody from Nowhere; How They Cured Him of Flirting; The End 
of a Long Trail; Warm Wireless Waves; Love's Marathon; He 
Met Her in Kansas City; Peaches and Kream; Little 
Fence Corners; Riverology; The Bigamist. 

□ □ □ 

This book contains five of the author’s best stories, as follows: 

THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET; 

A STRANGE CASE; or, THE MAN WITH FOUR SOULS; 
THE END OF A LONG TRAIL; or, DID HE WIN THE CASE; 
DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE; 

JOE’S BABY. 

The above stories are the greatest romances ever written , and will 
grip you and thrill you from first to last. They are real literature , and 
?e from the usual cant and piffle. They are full of refined wit and 
c l humor , and go clear to the bottom of human nature. They are full 
oj rare word-painting that has never been excelled. If you laugh your¬ 
self to deathy the author will pay your funeral expenses. Let’s go ! 

□ □ □ 

PRICE, $1.50 

□ □ □ 

PUBLISHED BY 

DR. MAK & HIMSELF 
2737 Forest Avenue, Kansas City, Missouri 

U. S. A. 


f\ 

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1 



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Copyrighted. June, 1922 
By Klarenc W ade Mai?, *\i 1 K 
Kansas City, Missouri 


jUt -5 1922 

©Cl. A 6 7 4 812 


v*, -V 


CONTENTS 


The Outlaw and Suffrajet. 7 

A Strange Case. 189 

The End of a Long Trail..... 294 

Dr. Nobody From Nowhere... 353 

Joe’s Baby. 399 


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RED KLOVER 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

Chapter I. 

Mr. Kutly Deep Badd first got a squint of this ruff and stormy 
old planet over in the mountainous regions of Eastern Kentucky— 
an environment well suited for developing hard and rugged charac¬ 
ters; in fact, no other kind of characters could long survive in such 
strenuous surroundings. Here Nature is penurious and it takes hard 
grubbing and eternal vigilance and continuous struggle to keep in 
advance of the gaunt and hungry Wolf of Want. Only those best 
fitted for the race got by and left their footprints on the hard and 
jagged soil. Books and school-houses were few and far apart in 
this relentless region at the time of the events I am relating, but 
circuit-riders (pioneer sky-chauffeurs ), tobacco, dogs, rifles and moon¬ 
shine whisky were current everywhere. While the natives of this 
hard and rugged region were lacking ill book-learning and the re¬ 
finements and camouflage of modern society, they were not a bit 
lacking in pride, deep affection, bravery and loyalty. 

An insult was usually taken up and settled right on the spot, 
and the one who was quickest with his gun or Bowie-knife had the 
satisfaction of attending the other’s funeral. Kut’s father did a lit¬ 
tle primitive farming on the side and a good deal of moonshining on 
the hack , and his young son naturally followed in the footsteps of his 
ancestor, and by the time he was eighteen there were few men who 
were his equal with the ever-ready rifle and pistol. Kut was 6 feet 
and 3 inches up as the bee buzzes, and very angular and muscular. 
His muscles were hard like bands of steel. After his nineteenth year 
he seldom weighed less than 225 in the shade. He soon acquired 
the reputation of being the best wrestler, foot-racer and all-around 
athlete in his naborhood; but when it came to the sex immediately 
opposite, Kut was cohsiderable of a coward; in fact, most any little 
old piece of calico could scare him back into the brush by shaking 
her apron at him and saying “Boo!” However, when he was about 
eleven he met his calico Waterloo at the ruff log school-house of the 
Roaring Winds naborhood. His inamorata was a pretty and petite 
little blonde with a wealth of golden-bronze hair, features that Na¬ 
ture exhausted all her skill in fashioning, and a pair of those strange 
and mystic lavender-moonlit eyes that had a soft and rippling thrill. 



8 


RED KLOVER. 


They seemed like the shadowed ripples of a mountain brook flirting 
with the wild flowers that dream along its banks. They were those 
quiet, sleepy, volcanic eyes that just waltz right up to you on the 
Southzvind , step on your heart with both feet, and then stand there 
and make sweet and provoking faces at your soul. She possessed 
hands and feet that were as dainty and delicate as a canary cricket; 
but her mouth was large and her lips were that ripe and dangerous 
sort that make men forget their wives and defy Hell. Her move¬ 
ments were sinuous and graceful like a vagrant sunbeam remaining 
to kiss the flowers a soft and lingering good-night. Her name was 
Canary Fern Woods, and she was the idol and only child of her 
father—the Rev. Lascellus Pendleton Woods, from—well, nobody 
knew where, as the reverend gentleman and his little moonbeam 
of a dauter had always refused to discuss their genealogy with 
their nabors. The Rev. Woods was a man of more than ordinary 
education and was a powerful exhorter and natural leader. He was 
fairly well liked in the naborhood of Roaring Winds; but still there 
were many in the country thereabout who did not fully trust him— 
notwithstanding his deep piety and apparently upright life — due, 
probably, to the fact that he was too silent on where he came from 
before mysteriously appearing in the Roaring Winds naborhood and 
beginning his ministry of the gospel of Christ. It is an in-bred and 
ineradicable instinct of these mountain people to be leary of all 
strangers and new-comers; so a quiet and persistent watch was 
kept on the Rev. Woods. 

Canary was only a little waif about five years of age when she 
and her reverend ancestor quietly rode down the peaceful Plum 
Valley late one September afternoon on a dilapidated and sorry- 
looking specimen of a brindle and pepless Western pony, and ap¬ 
plied for lodging at the hillside log cabin of the Badd family. As 
hospitality is an unfailing trait of these simple and honest mount¬ 
aineers, the travelers were bidden to “ flight and rest their saddle,” 
and to “come right in and have a bite to eat and a sip o’ cider.” 

Chapter II. 

GETTING SETTLED. 

The next morning the reverend gentleman told his host that 
he liked the looks of the country thereabouts, and expressed his 
intention of remaining and becoming one of them. The elder Mr. 
Badd “ ’lowed the naborhood needed a man o’ God powerful bad, 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. g 

as no circuit-rider had visited them for nigh onto foh’ year, and their 
morals were not what they ought to be.” 

The news soon spread all over the Roaring Winds naborhood, 
and with the help of the nabors it was only a short while until 
the Rev. Woods and his pretty and fascinating little dauter were 
very comfortably domiciled in a modest little two-room log cabin 
down at the edge of Plum Valley and near the forks of Jumping 
Creek—a wild and restless little mountain streamlet that came 
tumbling down from the wooded hills and fought its way among, 
the rocks and fallen trees, and thus the name—Jumping Creekt 
Their cabin was located in a beautiful and picturesque spot tha- 
was well calculated to appeal to the “Call of the Wild ” in any na¬ 
ture—and Canary had an abundance of this “Call of the Wild” in 
her make-up. 

The following winter the hardy mountaineers built a ruff 
log church, which was also utilized on week-days for a school-house. 
Here the Rev. Mr. Woods preached Sarahvation to the unrepentant 
on Sundays, and taught school on week-days—to the few country 
lads who could be inveigled into the school-house for that laudable 
purpose; however, the most of them would rather go hunting or 
fishing than attend school; but after the ruff lads got a glimpse of 
Canary, it was wonderful what an appetite for “lamin’” they de¬ 
veloped, and the keen rivalry among them to curry favor with Ca¬ 
nary. As the Badds were the first ones to take in this little elf 
and her distinguished father and befriend them, it was only natural 
that Kut would have the inside track and quite a start of the other 
boys. At the time the Woods came to the Roaring Winds nabor¬ 
hood Kut was a little past eleven years old, but mighty big and 
powerful for a lad of his years. As Canary was only a little tot, not 
quite six yet, Kut did ndt shy at her, as was his usual habit when 
calico was flaunted in his shy and awkward face; so the little girl 
grew right into his big ruff heart, as it were. It at once became 
apparent that Kut was destined to becoriie Canary^ Prince Charm¬ 
ing. Of course, the other boys were more or less jealous of Kut, 
and one day, after school had been dismissed, a big raw-souled Irish 
boy, who was a year older than Kut, insisted on walking home with 
Canary, as her father had to remain at the school-house for an hour 
or so to prepare some lessons for the morrow; to this the child ob¬ 
jected, and told him to go on about his business arid let her alone; 
but as Pat had more of the bully than the gentleman in his make¬ 
up, he felt very sore over being so flatly and firmly repulsed, and 


10 


RED KLOVER . 


wanted revenge on her—so he at once began to snow-ball her so 
hard it made her cry. As it happened, Kut was absent from school 
that day and was not on hand to champion his little inamorata; 
however, he learned of it early next morning and was on hand in 
good time to settle accounts with Pat. 

The pupils were all on hand when Patrick arrived, and had 
been duly informed of the episode of the evening before. “What 
are you going to do about it?” inquired Bud Hawkins; “for you 
know Pat Gorman is a year older than you are and can eat you 
alive!” “Sure thing!” chipped in Phil Mayo; “by the time Pat 
gets thru with Kut his face will be so cut up and bruised Canary 
won’t care to look at him any more.” These remarks and several 
more like them were enuff to cause Kut to make up his mind— 
even if he had not already done so. Fear was an element entirely 
unknown to Kutly Badd’s nature, and it made no difference to him 
at all how much older or bigger his antagonist might be: it was a 
question where his honor and manhood were at stake. As soon as 
Patrick arrived, Kut pulled off his coat and walked up to him and 
quietly asked: 

“Pat, why did you insult and hurt Canary last night?” 

“Coz I wanted to, you big duffer—an’ what yer goin’ to do 
about it?” 

“Whack! biff! bang!—that’s what I’m going to do about it!” 
and before Pat knew what had hit him Kut was on top of him and 
they were both grappled in a life-and-death struggle for the mas¬ 
tery. It was nip and tuck for about five minutes, and then Kut 
wrenched his right arm free from Pat’s death-grip and dealt his 
antagonist such a right-hand swing on the chin it put the Irishman 
over on Sleepy Island, where he remained for nearly an hour. With 
the assistance of the teacher and several of his pals, he was finally 
revived and sent home for the day; but he could never again be 
prevailed upon to attend the school while Kut Badd was there. 

It was quite evident that Canary was much brighter ment¬ 
ally than any of the children of the naborhood, and when this fact 
finally dawned on Kut it fired him with a new zeal to get a good 
education so he might be more worthy of his little sweetheart. 

After the fight at the school, Canary felt very proud of her 
champion, and a warm friendship endured between them that soon 
developed into real love on both sides. “I’m so glad you whipped 
that nasty ol’ boy, Kut,” whispered Canary to him one evening a 
week later when the two were lazily strolling home together and 


II 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

playing hands like old-timers. “You won’t ever let any of them 
hurt me—will you, Kut?” and she gave him a look that lassoed 
his soul with a rainbow. “They’d better not try it unless they can 
lick me!” and their hands gripped tighter than ever. 

Chapter III. 

THE MINISTER’S MYSTERIOUS CALLER. 

After about two years of the Rev. Wood’s ministry, he received 
a ruff and uncouth caller late one Friday evening, who requested 
the dominie to accompany him to administer to the last wants of 
a man who “was slipping his cable and preparing to bump the 
bumps.” 

“Where is your friend, my good man?” the reverend inquired. 

“Not far from here—erbout foh’ mile from here, over on Misty 
Mountain,” rejoined the stranger. 

“All right, my friend; lead on and I will lend your sick com¬ 
rade any assistance within my power.” 

After a long and devious path, they finally arrived at a little 
hut well hidden away far up on the side of Misty Mountain—a 
place that would indeed be hard to find unless one had a guide. 
The stranger at once pushed the cabin door open with the muzzle 
of his rifle, after giving a peculiar whistle that was a cross between a 
whippoorwill’s call and the “ Bob White” of a native quail. 

“Come right in, brother!” piped a thin and nervous -voice from 
an inner apartment, which served as a sleeping- and living-room 
combined and which was separated from the outer room by some 
tanned skins and blankets. The outer room served as a kitchen and 
storage-room, for it contained all sorts of implements and groceries. 
“Iam real glad to see you, sir,” continued the voice, and at the same 
time held out a thin and hairy hand to the minister, which the lat¬ 
ter warmly grasped and held for a minute, while the two men gazed 
steadily into each other’s eyes. 

“I am glad to meet you, my poor sick brother, but sorry to find 
you in this condition,” returned the Rev. Woods. 

“I have never had the pleasure of hearing you preach, and no 
doubt I need to, but somehow or other I have always put off going 
till now—and now it’s too late. I have a short story to relate and 
then I want you to do me a favor if you will; but before I begin I 
desire that we be entirely alone , for I have some things to say that 
are only for your ears.” 

“All right, Sam,” said the stranger, and he immediately got up 


12 RED KLOVER. 

and with his rifle in his hand walked out and sauntered off down 
the mountain side. 

After they were alone, the sick man began: u Brother Woods, 
I expect a man in your calling is used to receiving confidences and 
is supposed to keep them inviolate?” 

“Yes, brother, we often receive confidences and death-bed con¬ 
fessions, and I have never, violated a confidence reposed in me by a 
dying man,” calmly and reassuringly returned the man of God. 

“Well, then, about two weeks ago the boys got on a little bender 
over at the Still, and I got a bullet thru my bowels as a souvenir of 
the occasion. As there are no doctors within reach of this lonely 
spot, I have had to trust to luck to pull thru without them; but I 
now realize that I only have a few hours left me in this world, and 
while I know you can do nothing for me, I want you to write a let¬ 
ter for me to my wife and little ones back in 01 ’ Varginny. I had 
to leave that State a short while ago on account of the Revenoos, 
and they are watching my family and kindred so closely I have not 
dared to communicate with them; besides, I can neither read nor 
write, nor can any of the men I know here — the moonshiners in 
these hills. Over in 01 ’ Varginny I killed two of the cussed houn’s, 
but I had to do it in self-defense; so, you see, if they had ever caught 
me, I would have to dance at the end of a rope—and bein’ somewhat 
religious, I never did believe much in dancin’.” 

Then Sam halted for breath, for he was growing very weak. 
He confessed all his sins and told where the Still was located and 
gave the names of all the men connected with it, and then dictated 
a short letter to his wife and children back in Virginia. After the 
minister had written and sealed the letter and promised to mail it, 
and had sworn to never reveal what the moonshiner had told him, 
Sam held out his hand and bade the minister good-bye. Then he 
reached under his bunk and pulled out a leather wallet containing 
about $300; this he handed to the minister, and told him to pay 
himself out of it for the visit and then forward the rest of it to his 
wife. Soon after the minister had the wallet in his pocket the 
stranger emitted that same peculiar whistle he had used on bring¬ 
ing the preacher to the cabin. He was bidden to enter, and then 
Sam said to him: 

“Pete, I want you to escort our good brother here back to 
where he can find his way home, and then I want you to round up 
some of the boys and come back here and plant me in the side of 
the mountain.” 


13 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 

“All right, pard; your wishes shall be respected. ” And then Pete 
and the minister took their leave of Sam; but they hadn’t got twenty 
feet away from the cabin when a pistol-shot reverberated on the 
night air. They rushed back, and found that the moonshiner had 
concluded not to "await a slow and torturing death from his wounds, 
but had pushed himself over the brink of the Probably. 

Chapter IV. 

A MIDNIGHT RAID ON THE STILL. 

About six months after the death of Sam, the Revenues mad e 
a raid on the Still with which Sam had been connected, but the 
birds had received a tip in some mysterious way, and were far away 
when the officers found and destroyed the Glory-Juice Plant. There 
were many and diverse opinions in the naborhood as to how the 
hated Revenues got their information—but, of course, nobody ex¬ 
cept one man really knew—and it is to be presumed that he was 
not talking for publication. 

A WEDDING PARTY OVER ON TURKEY RIDGE. 

About a year after the raid on the moonshiners’ Still, a very 
happy and flustered young man appeared at the parsonage and in 
an awkward and embarrassed way asked the Soul-Chaser if he would 
go with him over on Turkey Ridge and splice a couple of young 
hearts that “wor jest a-dyin’ uv love o’ one anuther.” 

“Sure I’ll go, my boy, for it is right in line with my work to 
help make people happy.” 

After a long and winding ride of about 15 miles, they at last 
came to a little log cabin that sat back in a small clearing of hazel 
brush and scrub oaks. “’Light, parson, and come right in,” stam¬ 
mered the young man. On entering the parson found a beauti¬ 
ful and blushing slip of a young girl about sixteen and a sad-looking 
young-old woman about thirty-five—the girl’s mother. 

“Where is the bridegroom?” asked the parson in some aston¬ 
ishment, for he saw no evidence of a man about the place. 

“Oh!” blushed the young man who had conducted him thither, 
“I guess I be ther lucky devil, parson; so perceed and let’s have 
it over with as soon as possible.” 

The splicing was brief and satisfactory to all parties concerned, 
and then a tall and fierce-looking man appeared from out the Great 
Nowhere, it seemed. He bowed rather gingerly and coolly to the 
man of God, and then announced that he was to act as the min- 


14 


RED KLOVER. 


ister’s guide and convoy back home. As the shades of night had 
already fallen, they at once set out for the parson’s home — but, 
strange to relate, the person never reached his home, and his dauter 
and nabors never heard of him again. It just seemed that the earth 
had opened up and swallowed him —religion and all. 

Canary, who was then about nine years old, went over to live 
with the Badd family—which consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Badd, Kut, 
two brothers and a little sister who was a cripple. It seemed as tho 
the whole Badd family were very much attached to Canary and did 
all in their power to make the little waif and orphan happy and 
contented. Of course, the child was very disconsolate over the sud¬ 
den and mysterious disappearance of her “ Daddy,” as she fondly 
called him. She could not understand why everyone was so sure 
he was dead and would never return. For a long time the poor 
child clung to the belief that he had lost his way in the hills and 
would soon return to her. Canary was the only one who believed 
that way, and the nabors would often remark (when she could not 
hear them) that the reverend soul-saver had very thotlessly ex¬ 
changed the information he received from Sam with the execrated 
Revenues for a pot of mazuma—his “thirty pieces of silver .” 

Chapter V. 

KUT AND CANARY GROW UP TOGETHER. 

After the mysterious disappearance of the reverend soul-chaser, 
Canary and Kut were inseparable companions, and during the few 
winter months they attended the sessions at the old log school-house 
together, and all thru the summer evenings they pursued their 
studies together out in the shade of the old apple trees on the Badd 
homestead. 

Kut worked hard and saved every penny he could spare for 
buying books, clothes, etc. To a small county-seat town about 25 
miles distant he would go twice a year to buy books and supplies 
and find a market for their surplus horses, cattle, hogs, chickens 
and other farm products. On one of these trips to the county-seat 
Kut met two young and fine-looking fellows who had just started 
a bank in the town—the first bank the town ever had. The horse- 
buyer who purchased a span of young mules from Kut gave the 
boy a check on the bank in payment for the animals. This was 
the mountaineer’s first experience with banks and checks. The 
bankers asked him what he intended to do with the $300 he had 
just received for his mules, and Kut replied that he was saving it 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 15 

up to get married on. They very kindly told how risky it was to 
keep so much money around the house and painted in vivid colors 
the danger of keeping money around the house, etc. “Why not 
deposit it here in our bank, where it will be safe, and receive in¬ 
terest on it besides? Then when you need any money you can 
write a check for the amount.” This seemed good to the unsophis¬ 
ticated mountaineer, and he left the major part of the $300 with 
the kind and suave banker, Mr. Ralph Brinkley , and his brother- 
partner, Mr. Glen Brinkley. After making a few purchases, he re¬ 
turned home whistling and singing some of the old love-tunes cur¬ 
rent in his native hills. He was fondly dreaming of Canary and 
counting up the time until she would be old enuff to become Mrs. 
Kutly Deep Badd—how big and sweet it sounded when strung to¬ 
gether in that fashion! and then to think that she would be all his 
forever —and he would ever be her devoted lover-husband. The hu¬ 
man mind has ever enjoyed counting its chickens before they’re 
hatched. Kut not only needed money to marry on, but it had ever 
been his ambition to save up enuff to pay off the mortgage on 
the old place and to provide for his parents in their sunset days. 
A laudable ambition, to be sure. The following May Kut had con¬ 
siderable live-stock and other farm products he wished to convert 
into dollars. He had told Canary all about his other trip to the 
county-seat, and his meeting with the nice and courteous gentlemen 
at the bank, of his' depositing his money with them, and showed 
her all the mysteries and intricacies of properly filling out a check 
and signing it; so on this trip Canary coaxed him into letting her 
accompany him, for, said she: 

“I can ride horseback and help you drive the stock just as good 
as any man; besides, I’m dying to attend a theater and see all the 
pretty things that Nell Hopkins tells me they have at the county- 
seat. Kut dear, you know I’ve just never been nowhere!” 

“All right, little sweetheart; you shall go with me, and we will 
stay all night and attend the theater and see all the sights and then 
come back in the evening, when the dear old moon will candle the 
way for us.” . 

So it wa s settled that Canary should accompany him with the 
stock next week. After Kut had sold his stock and produce, he and 
Canary went to the bank to deposit the money they would not need 
for their immediate needs. Mr. Ralph Brinkley was alone in the 
bank when Kut and Canary arrived, and on recognizing Kut his 
face broke into a sweet and cordial smile as he reached his hand 


16 RED KLOVER, 

thru the “Teller’s Window” and warmly grasped and shook Kut’s 
big tanned paw. 

Kut did not offer to introduce Canary, but after he had con¬ 
cluded his business, Mr. Brinkley asked tentatively: “Is this your 
little sister, Mr. Badd?” 

Kut was greatly embarrassed, and after blushing furiously and 
floundering around for a few seconds, stammered out: “No, she 
ain’t my sifter —she—she is—is —Miss Canary Woods , the minister’s 
dauter.” 

“Ah! Miss Woods, I’m delighted to meet you,” smiled Brink- 
ley, and he made her a profound bow and came from behind the 
railing to shake hands with her. “Is this your first visit to our 
little city?” 

He was evidently very much taken with the “minister’s dau¬ 
ter,” as Kut had very diplomatically introduced her; but Canary 
was very much embarrassed by his extreme suavity and attentions, 
and at once started for the door, remarking to Kut that she wanted 
to go over to the big store and see the pretty new hats; whereupon 
Kut bade the banker good-day and followed his little love up the 
street. 

“I don’t like that man,” pouted Canary. 

“Why not?” asked Kut in real surprise; “he seems awfully 
nice and polite.” 

“I don’t know why —only I don’t like him.” 

Chapter VI. 

KUT THRASHES THREE “BAD MEN” FROM BEAR TRACK 
GULCH AND LOSES BOTH HIS PARENTS. 

Kut and Canary worked hard on the old homestead and in the 
evenings, on Sundays and rainy days they diligently pursued their 
studies together; so in a few years they both had acquired quite a 
good education—especially from the standpoint of the Roaring Winds 
naborhood. Canary’s rare and dainty beauty and innate loveliness 
increased with the years—much to her lover’s pride and delight; 
but such a bright and shining light would naturally attract other 
insects; therefore Kut had many rivals to outwit and vanquish. 

At a dance given by one of Kut’s nabors, three “Bad Men” 
from over in the Bear Track Gulch diggings invited themselves to 
attend and participate in the festivities. They had evidently vis¬ 
ited some Still before coming to the hoedown, for when they ar¬ 
rived at Mr. Howai i’s their condition was at once apparent to ev««y- 


1 7 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

one except themselves. The biggest and boldest of the three pushed 
his way in and swaggered out on the floor and attempted to take 
Canary away from Kut, with whom she was then waltzing. No, 
Kut didn’t do a thing to him and his two companions, who staggered 
to their pal’s assistance; at least, you wouldn’t think he did if you 
could have seen their faces and eyes the next morning. They had 
the appearance of having played an engagement with a bunch of 
bob-cats, a saw-mill, a cyclone and a hay-baler. They looked like 
a bunch of Y. M. C. A. rookies on a ferryboat who had tried to sail 
across No Man’s Land in a Ford. After this little episode, the other 
swains gave Canary a wide berth—especially when Kut was around. 

Kut continued to make semi-annual trips to the county-seat, 
and Canary often accompanied him, but she would never be pre¬ 
vailed upon to enter the bank again. After a few years more, Kut’s 
bank account had reached quite respectable proportions, and Cana¬ 
ry had arrived at her eighteenth birthday—the time set for her mar¬ 
riage with Kut. On their next trip to the county-seat in the early 
part of December they went over to the County Judge’s office in 
the court-house and were quietly united in marriage. They con¬ 
cluded to remain in town for a few days to make the purchases for 
their new home and a few Christmas presents for the family and rel¬ 
atives back in the hills. On the preceding day they got in town so 
late in the afternoon with their stock that by the time it was disposed 
of the bank had closed for the day, and as it was Saturday, Kut 
and his bride had concluded to remain over till Monday or Tuesday; 
so he gave the bank no further attention—especially as he had about 
$20 in cash on his person, which would be plenty for their imme¬ 
diate needs; besides, he was too absorbingly happy to think of any¬ 
thing but his blessed little wife. Can we blame him? 

A BANK FAILURE—HELL’S TO PAY. 

On the following Monday morning, when Kut went around to 
the bank, he found a wild and highly excited crowd surging around 
its doors and completely filling the interior—where the bookkeeper 
wildly tried to make the citizens understand that the Messrs. Brink- 
ley had not shown up, and that when he unlocked and started to 
open up and lay the cash out in its proper drawers, he discovered 
there was no cash to lay out—except a few dollars in nickels and 
pennies. He had no idea what had become of it, for the doors 
had not been tampered with, and everything seemed in order. 

At Saturday noon Mr. Glen Brinkley left town to visit an aunt 


i8 


RED KLOVER. 


in a near-by town, and would return on the noon train Monday. 
Mr. Ralph Brinkley had locked up on Saturday at about 4.30 p. m. 
and went to the barber-shop to get a shave, as usual, and then 
started for his rooms, which were located in a private home on the 
outskirts of the town. The family where he roomed were all up 
town that evening and did not return till after 9 o’clock that night, 
but did not trouble themselves to ascertain whether their roomer 
was in his apartments or not; anyway, he was not definitely missed 
until about noon the next day, when his landlady went up to clean 
up his rooms, and then she discovered that he had not slept in his 
bed Saturday night. His belongings, except a handbag and a suit¬ 
case, were there; but he never returned, and the blame was soon 
laid at his door. His brother Glen returned on the noon train Mon¬ 
day, as expected, and he was prostrated on learning that his ras¬ 
cally brother Ralph had looted the bank and “23d” himself into the 
Great and Vast Somewhere. It did not take the people long to 
satisfy themselves that Glen had nothing whatever to do with the 
episode. Poor Kut and Canary were sure enuff up against it, for 
every dollar they owned (except about $20 they had with them) was 
in the bank —“where it would be safe and at interest ! 11 

Nothing left to start housekeeping on—no chance now to save the old 
homestead. What would become of the Old Folks in their evening- 
time? The shock was so great it killed Kut’s mother in less than 
a week, and the old man (thru grief of it and the loss of his lifelong 
mate) soon followed her to that Dark and Mysterious Night that 
has no morning at the other end of it. 

Chapter VII. 

KUT GOES WEST. 

About a week after the bank failure, Kut left his beloved little 
Canarywith relatives and cutout for the Great and Boundless West, 
to try his luck in that wonder-place of Hope and Possibility. After 
selling to a nabor the little stock he had left, he gave Canary $150 
and had $50 left for himself. He bought a ticket to St. Louis, and 
after roaming around in that smoky and gloomy town for a few days, 
he went to Des Moines, Iowa, where he arrived the following day. 
After resting up a bit, he commenced to roam around the town in 
hopes he might run across Ralph Brinkley—but no such good luck. 
He met a rich farmer and cattle-breeder who lived in northern Iowa. 
Kut and the farmer both liked each other at first sight, and it was 
not long until Kut had “hired out” to the farmer for the season, and 


*9 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 

soon they were speeding away to the farmers home; but the train 
that bore them thither was wrecked a few miles from the farmer’s 
home, and he and Kut both sustained rather severe injuries. The 
farmer emerged with only a broken arm, but poor Kut was not so 
fortunate. His skull was badly injured and his right leg broken. 
When they got him out he was still unconscious, but not dead. 
The old farmer had him carried to his home and summoned his 
family physician, who, after an examination of the skull, said he 
would never regain consciousness until the skull was trepanned and 
the pressure on the delicate brain substance removed. Two other 
surgeons were called in, and after setting his leg, they operated on 
his skull—but no signs of returning consciousness appeared, and he 
lingered in a semi-comatose condition for several weeks, and then 
came back and rapidly got well. Kut was soon able to go to work, 
and he worked with such vim and vigor that the old farmer often 
cautioned him to not overdo himself. 

Kut had not told the farmer anything about himself nor where 
he was from, and there was not a thing on him nor in his scanty 
baggage that gave any clue as to where his people might live, and so 
forth. He at once wrote his wife a long account of his accident, and 
told her to cheer up and everything would come out all right in the 
end. The farmer paid his doctor bills, and said Kut might pay it 
back in work, but he refused to accept anything for board; so Kut 
need not worry about the future. The doctor bills left Kut about 
$100 in debt to the farmer, but he could soon square that up. 

The latter part of August and the first of September the great 
Iowa State Fair is held every year in the city of Des Moines, and 
it is always attended by people from all parts of the State and 
from many naboring States. The farmer had some mighty fine 
cattle, hogs, horses and sheep which he wanted to exhibit at the 
great fair, and informed Kut that he wanted him to go along and 
help with the animals. This just suited the young mountaineer, 
for he thot that at such a wide and diverse gathering of people he 
might possibly get a glimpse of a certain renegade Kentuckian whom 
he longed to see—for just a minute, and then—well, as the reader 
can easily guess the rest of it, I shall not waste time and space relat¬ 
ing it. 

KUT PLAYS THE BANG-TAILS AND MAKES GOOD. 

Kut, like all mountaineers and true Kentuckians , loved “boss 
flesh” next to his wife; so the races proved a source of great in- 


20 


RED KLOVER. 


terest and joy to him—and also to his employer, for the old farmer 
always accompanied Kut to the race-track. Kut’s knowledge of 
fine horses, and especially race horses, was second to none; so he 
did not hesitate to back his choice; but, unfortunately, he sud¬ 
denly remembered that he only had about #8 out of the $io he had 
left when he wrote to Canary. This he bet on a little sorrel mare 
and won—much to his delight and the farmer’s disapproval, for the 
latter did not believe in gambling in any form. He put his whole 
£16 and more he borrowed from his employer on a rather sorry- 
looking nag at odds of 3 to 1 — and again was successful. This 
gave him a capital of £56 — after paying the farmer the #4 he had 
just borrowed. He was in high spirits the remainder of the day, 
and as soon as he could get to the track next day he bet his $56 on 
the ponies, and again his judgment was right. This gave him $112 
for his next bet, which he also won. This easy way of making mon¬ 
ey by simply picking the right nag and having the courage to back 
your choice with the mazuma so excited and rattled the old farm¬ 
er that he decided to take a small flyer himself, which he did to the 
munificent extent of $5—and lost. The farmer was now absolutely 
certain that gambling was a grievous sin. Kut put up even $200 
on the next and last race of the day, against the groans and protests 
of his employer, and as before the Fickle Goddess was on his side. 
This left the lad over #400 in spot cash. The next day the farmer 
argued that his luck would turn, and admonished him not to bet 
any more; but the fever was in his blood and he again risked $400 
on the nag that nearly everyone was betting against. Again he 
was lucky, and now repaid the farmer the $100 he owed him on 
his doctor bills. On that afternoon the big race of the week was 
scheduled to take place, and Kut coolly placed $700 on his pick of 
the flyers—and won easily. He helped the farmer home with his 
cattle and horses and then told him that farming was too slow and 
had no further attractions for him. The next day he left for St. 
Paul, Minnesota, and intended to go on from there into the Great 
Northwest. 

“By gum, mother, if I could pick the runners like that big chap 
can, I wouldn’t farm another lick—so I wouldn’t!” exclaimed the 
farmer to his wife that night at supper. 

“Why, Abner Blake! you had orto be ashamed o’ yourself! 
And you a deacon, too!” 

While in St. Paul, Kut received a lettr from Kentucky that 


21 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 

froze up hie last drop of blood, and he at once started for Windy- 
City—Chicugo- 

Chapter VIII. 

KUT MEETS A FELLOW-KENTUCKIAN ON THE 
TRAIN. 

The letter Kut received from Kentucky stated that his wife 
had left there about two months ago to meet him in Chicago— 
where the telegram stated he was dying from the effects of injuries 
received in a train wreck near Chicago. This sad intelligence was 
certainly enuff to congeal anyone’s gore. 

He bought a paper from a train-butcher and tried to interest 
himself in its contents of crime and tragedies, but his mind was so 
wholly engrossed with the problem of his wife’s trip to Chicago to 
meet him, when he lay unconscious away out in Iowa and had sent 
her no message of any kind, nor had he ever spoken of his family 
to anyone since leaving his native hills in pursuit of Fortune and the 
undying hope that he might find the scoundrel Brinkley and even 
up accounts with the degenerate. He soon tossed the paper to an 
elderly man across the aisle from himself. The gentleman had the 
unmistakable air of the mountains and of the South, and politely 
and tentatively asked Kut if he were not a Kentuckian. 

“Why, to be sure I am,” cordially returned Kut, glad of an op¬ 
portunity to have someone to talk to; “but are you from the same 
State?” 

“I am from Blankville—over in the eastern part of the State.” 

“How strange!” smiled Kut; “for I am from the same part 
of the old State, and I often went over to the county-seat to sell 
stock and do shopping. My name is Kut Badd, and I was raised 
over in the Roaring Winds naborhood.” 

“Holy smoke!” exclaimed Colonel Bangs; “then I can tell you 
some mighty interesting news, I reckon. Aren’t you the chap that 
married Canary Woods about three or four months ago?” 

“I am,” quietly said Kut, and,his heart was in his throat and 
he was getting so nervous he could hardly control his emotions; 
“and I am now on my way to Chicago to find her if it is possible, 
for I have just received a letter from my people telling me that she 
had been summoned there to meet me, and that I was dying from 
injuries received in a train wreck.” 

“Poor boy!” kindly and pathetically sighed the Colonel; “then 
your trip to Chicago will be in vain, for you will never see your 
wife again!” 


22 


RED KLOVER. 

“What do you mean? Speak, man! Speak!” and the poor 
lad jumped in the air and his face was white and hard. 

“ Calm yourself, my boy, and try to get control of your nerves, 
for she is dead ! 17 

And then Colonel Kensington Bangs told Kut the whole sad 
story as he received it from the lips of his dying dauter in a hos¬ 
pital in Minneapolis. When Brinkley fled from Biankville with the 
funds his pious and trusting nabors had entrusted to his “safe keep¬ 
ing,” he did not go alone. He added another crime to his somber 
record by eloping with the Colonel’s married dauter and shortly 
afterward selling her to the White Slavers in Chicago. He soon 
tired of her charms when said charms were all his own and some¬ 
thing of an expense to him. While living with her, he had confided 
to her when intoxicated that he loved Canary Badd and intended 
' to have her, if he had to “kill her Rube of a husband and wade thru 
Hell to get her!” 

In some unaccountable way, Brinkley had learned of the wreck 
in which Kut had been so inopportunely rendered unconscious, 
where he was and all about it; so, when the fiend learned that Kut 
would be “out of the world” for a long time, and possibly forever, 
he at once set about to entice Canary to Chicago, where he could 
forcibly keep her and compel her to do his bidding. Luck often 
favors the wicked, it seems, for on the next day after Kut had re¬ 
ceived his injuries Brinkley was on an incoming train from the 
Northwest and nearing Chicago,, when a defective rail ditched the 
train and caused a horrible catastrophe. Many of the passengers 
of this ill-fated train were killed and many others were more or 
less injured. Brinkley escaped without so much as a scratch, while 
many good and worthy people were killed or horribly mangled. 
Among the badly injured and unconscious ones was a large and 
angular young man who could easily have passed for Kut’s twin 
brother. When he was searched, it was found that his skull was 
badly crushed, but still he lived. His clothing and cheap handbag 
found near him bore no trace of a name or address. Brinkley was 
one of the parties who helped to dig him out from under the debris 
and helped search him for something to identify the man, and when 
Brinkley learned that there were no marks nor cards to identify the 
stranger, he suddenly remembered him as an old school-mate of 
his whom he had not seen for many years; so he identified him as 
Kutly D. Badd, of Biankville, Kentucky. From that on Brinkley 
took great interest in the unconscious stranger and had him trans- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 23 

ferred to a city hospital, and at once sent the following telegram to 
Canary: 

“City Hospital, Chicago, Sept. 18, 18—, 
“Mrs. Kut D. Badd , Blankville , Ky. 

“Your husband hurt in railroad wreck — is dying. Come at 
once. Dr. S. 0 . Forth.” 

The telegram caused consternation among the simple hill folks 
back in Kentucky, and Canary left on the first train for Chicago. 
Brinkley was at the Stopo (new word for depot) with a closed car¬ 
riage and had carefully disguised himself so she would not recognize 
him. He certainly looked like an elderly physician, and was so kind 
and fatherly to his victim that he at once won her confidence, and 
he assured her that he had every hope of being able to save her 
husband’s life after they had performed the operation on his skull, 
which they intended to do to-morrow if the condition of the patient 
would permit. He told the poor scared and timid child that her 
husband was entirely unconscious, and that she could not see him 
until the following day—just before the operation; and in the mean¬ 
time she could stay, if she liked, in the hospital annex where the 
nurses roomed, and in that way she would be near at hand in case 
they needed her. The innocent little victim never dreamed of her 
impending fate. 

After quite a long and winding ride of about an hour, the car¬ 
riage finally drew up in front of quite a big stone structure where 
the blinds were all closely drawn; but once inside, everything was 
elegantly and softly furnished, and Canary was met by the “ Head 
Nurse ” and conducted to a back room on the third floor. It is 
needless to say the house was a swell bagnio, and the “ Head Nurse” 
as Brinkley had told Canary she was, in reality was the Landlady. 

The poor little bird soon discovered that her room was locked 
and no way for her to get out of it. After about a week of trying 
to force himself on Canary, Brinkley gave it up as a hopeless task 
and sold her to the Landlady for #500, and then disappeared. After 
a few days of such a horrible life, and realizing that she could never 
escape, the poor girl killed herself to escape the infamy and horror 
of such a life that yawned before her. 

The Colonel’s dauter had' been an inmate of this Hell-on - 
Earth place for about two months, and had, by pretending to like 
it, so far won the confidence of the Landlady that she became a 
“trusty,” and for that reason had been assigned to help break-in 


24 


RED KLOVER. 


the new recruits and carry their food to them. When she found 
that Canary was from Kentucky, she took the girl into her confi¬ 
dence and explained everything to her, and the two planned to es¬ 
cape together. In this way she soon learned all about Canary and 
her husband, the plot by which the girl had been lured to Chicago, 
etc. They were both captured while trying to escape, and then, in 
a fit of hopeless despondency, Canary killed herself. Soon there¬ 
after the Coloners dauter escaped and fled to Minneapolis, where 
she died in a hospital shortly afterward. ( White slavery flourishes 
in all our big cities, and yet we are sending many “Missionaries” 
abroad to u convert the heathen to Our Civilization .”) 

Chapter IX. 

KUT ROBS HIS FIRST BANK IN DAKOTA. 

After learning the sad and tragic story of his wife’s cruel be¬ 
trayal and untimely death, Kut’s whole nature turned to flint and 
only thots of finding Brinkley and taking some adequate revenge 
filled his mind; but how to find the renegade was the difficult 
part of the problem. Shooting the rotter after he had found him, 
or strangling the life out of his vile body, was a trifling matter. 
“Anyway, this universe is not half big enuff to hold both of us!” 
declared Kut to Colonel Bangs as the two gentlemen parted on 
the train. After a few hours of hard thinking, Kut decided that it 
would be useless to continue on to Chicago; so when the train pulled 
into the quiet little German-American city of La Crosse, Wiscon¬ 
sin, Kut alighted and bought a ticket back to St. Apolis and Minne 
Paul. After a few days of outfitting and sight-seeing in the Mill 
City, and after providing himself with a pair of the latest and dead¬ 
liest up-to-date revolvers and a high-power Winchester rifle of large 
caliber, a wicked-looking dagger and some necessary clothing and 
disguises, Kut started for the Great Northwest and for Montana 
ih particular. He had a vague idea he would find his quarry in 
Montana. 

As Brinkley had been a banker, Kut had a very poor opinion 
of that whole craft, and vowed vengeance on any of them that fell 
in his way. The little pile of money he had won on the races in Des 
Moines was rapidly doing the disappearing act, and Kut realized 
that he must speedily add to it if he intended to travel about seek¬ 
ing one of the lowest and most degenerate scoundrels that ever dis¬ 
graced the earth by walking on it. Traveling around and paying 
out money every day, and none coming in, was a new problem to 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


*5 


the mountaineer, anti as he must have plenty of it, in order to pros¬ 
ecute his search for Brinkley, he decided to “ borrow ” from Brink- 
ley^ own craft. He considered the banks his legitimate prey, and 
moreover, they would most readily yield cash and thus replenish 
his diminishing exchequer or “kick.” “Yes, I’ll try my hand on 
some bank in a smalltown in South Dakota,” for he had observed in 
traveling thru that wild and woolly country that the banks seldom 
had more than two men in them, and he soon discovered that they 
took turns at going to dinner; so how easy it would be to drop in 
the bank during the noon hour, when only one clerk would be in 
charge, and demand the money; besides, nearly all the stores and 
near-by shops would also be closed at that hour, while their own¬ 
ers and clerks were at dinner. There would be slight chance of 
other customers coming in the bank at that hour. 

“About as easy as taking candy from a baby,” mused Kut to 
himself after he had the situation sized up and understood the cus¬ 
toms in the small towns. It was all very clear to Kut that he 
could easily rob such a bank at the noon hour, and the only draw¬ 
back to the plan was the “get-away” after the job was done; but, 
of course, he had to assume all the risks and take all the desperate 
chances, and might get captured or killed; but, as his life was now 
a blank and he had nothing to live for except the ignoble motive of 
revenge, what did it matter anyway? The only thing that prevented 
Kut from pushing himself over the Brink of the Probably and thus 
be done with it was the forlorn hope of finding Brinkley and killing 
him as he would a snake or skunk. 

After about a w'eek of aimlessly drifting from place to place 
in South Dakota, Kut arrived in a prosperous-looking little town 
of about 600 people and that had quite a nice-looking little bank; 
so he decided to pull off his first stunt in the bank-robbing line 
right there; but he must first study the surrounding country, time 
of all the trains in and out of town, how far across the country to 
an adjoining town with railway facilities, etc. “Preparedness,” 
quoted Kut to himself, “is a mighty good motto most any time, 
and doubly so when one has a particular and ticklish job on hand; 
besides, I must have a first-class nag to aid me in my flight.” At 
first he thot he would select the horse that suited him and then 
find where the owner lived and go there at night and steal the 
animal; but, as the farmers had never wronged Kut and were 
members of his own class and trade, he could not bring himself to 
the point of doing one of them a wrong; besides, he had plenty of 


26 


RED KLOVER. 


money to buy a good horse or two, and if the bank venture turned 
out as he expected, he would soon have plenty of money for his 
immediate needs. “And as I am a Kentuckian and a gentleman , I 
just can’t get down low enough to make war on women and steal 
hosses; besides, I must keep my self-respect,” mused Kut to himself. 
The second day after finding the nag he wanted Kut started out on 
foot to the farmer’s place, and after about ten minutes’ dickering, 
bought the animal for $40 less than he expected to give. The old 
farmer was an old-fashioned Norwegian—one of those good and up¬ 
right old souls who adhered to the Golden Rule as closely as pos¬ 
sible. He invited Kut to take dinner with him and his family of 
wife, three sons and two dauters. Kut won the good-will of them 
all, and after dinner the old man explained to Kut that his eldest 
son was soon to marry and move to a place of his own, and that the 
youngest lad, a boy of sixteen, was going off to college in October, 
and this would leave only himself and his second son to run the 
farm, and as it was too much work for the two of them, he asked 
Kut to stay and work for him that year anyway, and longer if 
they all got along nicely together. 

At dinner that day Kut could not help noticing that the farm¬ 
er’s eldest dauter gave him many a shy and admiring glance, and 
as she looked very pretty and fascinating to the lonesome mount¬ 
aineer, he was secretly pleased, and on her account, more than for 
any other reason, Kut decided to accept the farmer’s proposition. 
The terms of the deal were soon agreed to on both sides, and Kut 
was to keep his new horse there without charge for its keep; he 
was to have the use of the single buggy every other Sunday if he 
so desired. 

Inside of a week Kut had won the confidence and good-will of 
the entire Dnajsen family , and considerably more than the good¬ 
will of Valleja—the eldest dauter. The farmer lived about three 
miles from the little town whose bank he intended to rob, and he 
figured that if he were employed in the naborhood and thot well of, 
suspicion would pass him by when he pulled off the bank stunt, 
which he fully intended to do a little later on. Kut considered it 
wise to lie low for a few weeks and thus carefully arrange all his 
plans, so there would be no misstep when the critical moment came. 
He didn’t overlook anything, and as he now had a fine and speedy 
nag of his own, he could skylark around on Sundays and study the 
lay of the land, railways, etc. On some of these look-around trips 
he hitched his horse to the old farmer’s buggy and took Valleja 


27 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

with him—“just for company” was the way he explained it to him¬ 
self. He pitched in and worked hard with a vigorous stroke, and 
was so careful and economical with the farmer’s horses, tools, etc., 
he rapidly rose in the estimation of the entire family and was well 
liked by the few nabors he met in the course of naborly intercourse. 

After about six weeks’ sojourn at the Norwegian’s, Kut decided 
that the time was about ripe for his little deal at the bank; besides, 
an event was about to take place four miles east of the town that would 
greatly facilitate his plans. The Norwegian lived three miles west 
of the town, and Kut learned from the family that Mr. Frostbrook 
was to have a big sale of all his live-stock, farm implements and 
household goods on a certain Saturday in the near future. The 
farmer and his sons were going, and remarked that the whole coun¬ 
try round about would be there, as well as half the town, for Mr. 
Frostbrook had announced that there would be plenty to drink and 
eat—and all free to those who attended his sale; so this would 
surely attract a large crowd—whether they wanted to buy any¬ 
thing or not. Colonel Bellow Windstorm was to cry the sale, and 
his unfailing humor and touching eloquence and matchless oratory 
were a source of joy to all who ever heard his remarkable voice. 
The cashier of the bank was to clerk the sale, for he knew the finan¬ 
cial standing'of everyone in the county and in adjoining counties 
and naboring towns. 

Kut listened indifferently to all this gossip about the sale, and 
apparently paid no attention to it, and when the farmer invited 
him to leave off work for that day and accompany them to the sale, 
Kut declined on the ground that he knew nobody, and on that ac¬ 
count it would be rather uninteresting and a loss of time; besides, 
there was a piece of plowing he wanted to finish by Monday noon 
if possible; so he “reckoned he’d stay at home and work all day.” 
It did not take Kut long to see that the day of the sale would be 
the very time for his little stunt at the bank. Most of the men- 
folks of the village would be out at the sale, where there would be 
“plenty to eat and drink”; besides, the cashier was to clerk the 
sale, and that would only leave one clerk in charge of the bank—a 
mere boy of eighteen, who acted as bookkeeper, assistant cashier and 
all-around factotum. His position in the bank was due mainly to 
the influence of his uncle—one of the principal stockholders in the 
bank. Anothefr thing that had decided Kut to raid the bank was 
the fact that the old Norwegian had lost several thousands a few 
years ago in a bank failure. Since that bitter experience the old 


28 


RED KLOVER . 


farmer had kept his little savings secreted about the house and 
barn. When Kut learned that the old farmer had no money in the 
bank, that fact greatly relieved his mind, for he had grown quite 
fond of the old farmer and his entire family, and it worried Kut 
very much to have to rob his good friend and employer. 

On the day of the sale Kut went to the field to plow, as he had 
been doing for a few days back, and this “eighty” he was plowing 
was quite a distance from the house and was separated from the old 
homestead by an adjoining “eighty”; this brought Kut within about 
two miles of the town. About half-past 11 he quietly tied up his 
team to a stake in the ground and slipped away to the town on 
foot, and so well disguised that no one would recognize him if he 
should be met by any of the nabors or citizens of the town. He 
only met one person on the way to the bank, and that was a school¬ 
girl about fourteen years of age. He arrived at the bank about 5 
minutes of 12, and found the young clerk in charge and just prepar¬ 
ing to close up for dinner. Kut had a large bill ($5°) he wanted 
changed. This necessitated the unlocking of the safe, and just as 
the clerk emerged from the vault with his hands full of bills, he 
found himself looking into the nozzle of a big and business-looking 
6-talker, and a hard and terrible voice behind it and commanding 
the clerk to keep quiet and hand out all the money and be “damned 
quick about it, too!” The clerk had an extensive streak of yellow 
in him and he at once threw up his hands and completely collapsed, 
and sinking down on his knees, began to pray and implore the rob¬ 
ber not to shoot him. Kut was so disgusted with his utter lack of 
courage that he whacked him a hard clip over the head with his 
revolver, and thus put the boob down and out for awhile. Kut im¬ 
mediately locked the front door, pulled down the blinds and ar¬ 
ranged the “Gone to Dinner” sign in the door, and then he returned 
to the unconscious cashier and chucked him into the vault—after 
extracting all the money, locked the vault door and quickly tucked 
the money away in two big belts he wore underneath h'is clothes, 
and then he peered carefully out of the front door and saw that 
the town lobked like a deserted village; then he quietly let him¬ 
self out the back door, and after passing out into the alley, he was 
soon beyond the town on his way back to the field. He quickly 
counted his treasure, and it totaled up $18,734 and a little odd 
change. He hurriedly buried it and carefully marked the place so 
he would have no trouble finding it when he was ready to “ pull 
his freights” 


29 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET, 

Kut then went back to where he had left his team; he untied 
them and proceeded to plow around to the point nearest the house, 
when he took his jug and went to the house to refill it with water. 
That kind of a job was enuff to make almost anyone a little dry 
.arouiid the gills. At the well he met Valleja, who was moye than 
glad to see him and tried to detain him for a friendly chat. Val- 
leja’s mother, hearing her dauter talking with someone, looked out 
the door to see who it was; but on recognizing that it was Kut, she 
immediately went back to her sewing and paid no further attention 
to them, for she was set on acquiring Kut for a son-in-law, and 
therefore gave them every opportunity to “spark” one another. 
Kut’s real object in going to the house at that time was to be seen 
and recognized , so that he could prove that he had not been off the 
farm that day. He only chatted with the girl about ten minutes, 
and then returned to his plowing and continued faithfully at it till 
quite late—almost syndown, when he returned home riding one of 
his three horses and leading the other two. When he reached the 
house, the old farmer and his son had just returned from the sale, 
and they at once informed Kut of the bank robbery and said that 
posses had already formed and were searching for the robbers, who, 
the frightened cashier averred, “were two big giants fully 7 feet tall 
and weighed about 300 each, and looked to be about forty-five years 
old.” This description would certainly let Kut out if he were ever 
suspected; however, no suspicion ever attached to Kut, and after a 
fruitless search and the arrest and release of about forty persons sus¬ 
pected of the crime, the thing blew over and became history. The 
bankers had less than $400 in the bank of their own money—nearly 
all of it belonging to their depositors; therefore they did not feel 
the robbery very much. They seldom do. 

It was a lucky thing for the president and cashier that they 
were both out to the sale that day, for they might have been sus¬ 
pected themselves of doing the job. This little episode made the 
old farmer more leary than ever of banks, and he rejoiced greatly 
that his money was all safe and where he could put his hands on it 
when he wanted it. 

That night at supper they all discussed the bank robbery, but 
no one could imagine who did it. The people in town finally de¬ 
cided it was done by professionals from St. Paul, and that it would 
be impossible to ever find them. 

“I bane so glad, paw, that our money him bane not in that 
bank!” exclaimed the old lady as she heaved a big sigh of relief; 


30 


RED KLOVER. 


and that seemed to be the consensus of opinion in the Norwegian 
household; and Valleja looked over at Kut and caressed him with 
her soft brown eyes, and thot to herself that if the big mount¬ 
aineer were only her own, she wouldn’t care whether there was a 
blamed bank in all the world. Kut liked Valleja and was awfully 
nice to her, but he had only a broken and tattered heart to offer, 
and was too honest and manly to make such a mock offering; be¬ 
sides, he had a mission to fulfill, and that took precedence over ev¬ 
erything else. He could never settle down and be at peace with 
himself until he had found Brinkley and avenged his wife’s death; 
then he didn’t care much what happened. 

Chapter X. 

KUT JOINS A BARN-STORMING COMPANY AND 

BECOMES AN ACTOR. _ 

Kut now had plenty of means to prosecute his search for the 
erstwhile Brinkley, but he well knew it would not look just right 
for him to pull out so soon after the bank robbery; so he decided 
it would be best to wait a reasonable time, so that suspicion might 
not possibly attach to him; therefore he remained with the old 
farmer six months, and in the meantime had become more sociable 
by mingling with the people of the town and naborhood, and had 
become quite popular with all he met. The old farmer spoke of 
him in such flattering terms that he had many offers to work for 
other farmers, and the president of the bank wanted Kut to act as 
foreman for a large ranch he owned in a near-by county, and on 
which he employed twenty-two men; but this flattering offer was 
declined, on the ground that, as Kut had been raised in the South, 
he did not like the severe winters of the Dakotas—the preceding one 
being his first winter in the far North. “I intend to take a trip to 
the great State of Texas and see how I like things down there,” he 
explained to his nabors. 

On his way to St. Paul he had to change cars at a small town 
in western Minnesota, and had to wait over from 5 o’clock that 
afternoon till 10.40 the next day. 

“Some wait!” mused Kut to himself. He went to the only 
hotel the little town afforded and secured lodgings for the night. 
The town was about 880 in population and a small theatrical troupe 
was holding forth at the “opera-house” of the town, and they were 
what is generally known in the West as “barn-stormers.” Kut had 
not been in the hotel office long until one of the actors guessed from 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 31 

his soft way of pronouncing his rs that he was a Southerner, and 
at once introduced himself as a native of Kentucky, and when Kut 
told him that he also hailed from that grand old State of bluegrass, 
good horses and fine whisky, the two soon got well acquainted and 
were good friends. Kut was soon introduced to the entire company 
—three women, four men and three dogs. The week before one of 
the actors had met with a severe accident and had to be left be¬ 
hind until he recovered from a broken leg and other severe injuries; 
therefore the company was “shy” a man and greatly in need of one 
to take his place. It is a hard matter to pick up “talent” out in 
the small towns—even for a barn-storming outfit. This actor friend 
of Kut’s! asked the mountaineer how he would like to be an actor. 

“Well, I hardly know,” replied Kut; “I might learn it in the 
course of time, I reckon?” and he looked at the actor with an inter¬ 
rogation point in each eye. 

“Just the thing!” enthusiastically exclaimed Mr. Van Duysen 
Storm, the actor; “and I just feel sure we can soon make a first- 
class actor out of you; besides, we particularly want a big and husky 
fellow who can play the bandit roles in ‘The James Boys in Mis¬ 
souri’ and other Wild Western dramas,” and he clasped Kut’s hand 
eagerly. 

“All right, pard; if you all think I can make good at it, I’d 
just as soon give it a whirl as not; especially as I have nothing par¬ 
ticular on hand at present,” assented Kut. 

The manager and Mr. Storm invited Kut to go along with 
them to the show that night, and assured him that they would in¬ 
itiate him into the mysteries of the game as enacted behind the 
scenes. Kut was taken to the dressing-room of Mr. Storm and 
two other actors who shared the same dressing-room, for dressing- 
rooms are very scarce in the “opera-houses” of the small towns. 
The said “opera-houses” often consisted of an ordinary hall or va¬ 
cant store-room about 30 feet wide and 70 feet long, with a very 
crude stage erected at the rear end of it and curtained off the best 
they could. This was the first time Kut had ever met any real “ show 
people,” as they are called in the country towns, and it was the first 
time he had ever had a peep behind the scenes, but the thing that 
most interested and fascinated him was the skillful and wonderful way 
in which the actors and actresses could alter their appearance and 
make-up to represent different characters; and it was all done with 
grease-paints, wigs and a few other simple devices familiar to the 
theatrical craft. It was simply wonderful how a young man in the 


32 


RED KLOVER. 


early twenties could “make up” and look like an elderly man in the 
seventies, but most wonderful of all was the way a white man could 
“make up” and appear like a real darky and talk the negro dia¬ 
lect to perfection. They assured Kut that they could in a few 
weeks teach him the whole art of “make up” and disguising, and 
how to imitate different voices and nationalities. 

On the next night they were to present a blood-curdling and 
thrilling Western drama entitled “The James Boys in Missouri.” 
In this thrilling drama from real life they showed how the outlaws 
rob trains, banks, etc., and their running and desperate fights with 
the sheriffs and detectives; also, the cunning ruses they employ to 
outwit their pursuers and escape arrest and punishment. The actors 
soon discovered that Kut had plenty of grit and was very apt at imi¬ 
tating the negro dialect and character, and was expert with horses 
and in the use of firearms; therefore they decided to cast him in the 
rcle for the following night. Kut was to be one of the bandits to 
“hold-up” the engineer and express agent, and as he was very tall 
and angular, with steel-blue eyes that had a cold and merciless glitter 
in them when mad or excited, they decided to make him up as the 
famous Frank James —and he certainly did look the part after the 
last rehearsal, for they were adepts at the art of “making up” and 
disguising—even if they had earned the title of “barn-stormers.” 

The following night Kut acquitted himself with high honors and 
won several curtain-calls—much to his delight and the satisfaction 
of the management, for they foresaw that Kut would soon be a 
first-class actor; however, Kut had no intention of long remaining 
an actor—in fact, he had other and bigger fish to fry. He was quick 
to realize what a tremendous advantage it would be to him in his 
future work among the banks if he were an expert at “making up” 
and disguising himself; in fact, such a knowledge would be a val¬ 
uable asset, and as he could acquire it in a few weeks, and at the 
same time be making at least his expenses, he decided to stick to 
the barn-stormers until he had learned all he wanted and needed to 
know in the “make up” line; and then he would drop out and take 
up his silent hunt for Brinkley in the State of Montana—and even 
in the remotest parts of Hell —until he found the degenerate and 
choked the life out of him. Kut was quick to learn the histrionic 
business and scored big hits every night, and it was only a short 
time until he could work the “make up” racket with the best of 
them. He also developed a wonderful talent for changing his voice 
and gait in walking—all valuable accomplishments for his future 


33 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

work. After about seven weeks with the barn-stormers, he cut loose 
one Sunday morning, after receiving all his back salary. He told 
them he was engaged to marry a girl back in the old Bluegrass State 
and just could not put it off any longer. 

Shortly after leaving the old Norwegian farmer, Kut sold his 
horse for #50 more than he gave for it—not because he did not like 
the nag, for it was really a fine animal; but Kut foresaw that, as the 
horse was so well known in that naborhood, it might be the means 
of identifying him sometime when he was not longing for identifi¬ 
cation. “It doesn’t pay to overlook any bets—however small and 
insignificant they may appear” thought Kut to himself. “The an¬ 
imal that doesn’t always keep an eye for traps is quite likely to 
blunder into one of the cussed things when and where he least ex¬ 
pects it.” 

One of the actors had been a railroad man for some time before 
he drifted into the show business. He had worked his way up from 
the very bottom to the top—from common section-hand and engine- 
wiper and hostler to machinist, fireman, engineer, brakeman, con¬ 
ductor, telegrapher, etc. He knew railroading from syntax to har¬ 
vest, and had been let out and black-balled on account of the active 
part he took in a big strike some years previous. He soon found 
out what a complete and terrible thing a “blacklist” is, for no mat¬ 
ter where he went and sought employment, he could not secure a 
job, altho he was a high-grade and efficient, man and stood high in 
the various railway crafts. He had a cousin who was a successful 
actor, and thru this relative he was induced to try his hand at the 
theatrical profession—which he did, and with considerable success. 
It was from this ex-railroad man and present actor that Kut soon 
learned all about the ins and outs of the railroad business—how to 
run an engine and fire one; all the secret codes and signals of the: 
business—how to stop a train, how to operate the air-brakes, etc.? 
so when Kut left the barn-stormers he was the proud and happy 
possessor of two new professions , both of which would be valuable 
in his new field of endeavor. 

Chapter XI. 

KUT PULLS OFF HIS FIRST TRAIN ROBBERY 
ALONE. 

After squaring himself with the barn-stormers, Kut locked him¬ 
self in his room and “took stock” of his earthly possessions. He 
had just #19,767.64—quite a tidy little sum for his immediate needs. 


34 


RED KLOVER. 


Everything Kut tried his hands at turned out successfully in a fin¬ 
ancial way. After playing the part of the redoubtable Frank Janies 
for seven weeks with the barn-stormers, Kut felt so proud and con¬ 
fident of his abilities in this line that he longed to try a real train 
“hold-up.” When he left the show he found himself in eastern Min¬ 
nesota. He boarded a fast express train for Minneapolis, and from 
the Flour City he intended going direct to Montana and taking up 
his still hunt for Brinkley. “I don’t know why I think the cur 
has gone to Montana, but I have a feeling that I am on the right 
track,” Kut said to himself. It was about 2 p. m. when Kut board¬ 
ed the train for Minneapolis, and it would be about 7.40 when he 
arrived in the Mill City. 

After riding a couple of hours in the day coach, Kut got up, 
stretched his wheels and rolled back through the two Pullman cars 
attached to the rear of the train, He noticed that nearly all the 
occupants of the Pullmans wore many fine-looking diamonds and 
seemed to have plenty of wealth; so Kut decided that he would 
<do a real stunt in the “hold-up” line, and pull the whole job him¬ 
self, too. “If I succeed, I’ll not have to divide with anyone nor 
ever fear being given away by a pal,” he mused as he thought it all 
over carefully. After consulting the time-table a few minutes and 
-making a few calculations, he slipped into the lavatory on the first 
Pullman and made up as a powerful negro, and just as the train 
was entering the suburbs of St. Paul he passed thru the first Pull¬ 
man and locked the rear door after him, and then drove a big nail 
in the lock in such a way it would be impossible to unlock it from 
either side for hours; then he cut out about 5 feet of the bell-rope 
in the front end of the second Puliman, so they could not signal 
from that car to the engineer or conductor. The passengers were 
cleaning up and packing their bags and suit-cases preparatory to 
leaving the train at St. Paul when an immense jet-black African 
entered the car and threatened to shoot anyone who offered the 
slightest resistance or refused to hand over his diamonds and cash. 
A small Hebrew toolt graveling salesman) from New York was^a 
passenger on the Pullman and had about $50,000 'worth of iamonds, 
nibies, emeralds, pearls, etc., and about $15,000 cash belonging to 
his house. The prospect of losing all that vast fortune was too 
much for this disciple and descendant of Moses, so he threw up the 
window and started to jump thru with his precious sample-case in 
his hands; but the robber saw his intention and, divining his pur¬ 
pose and realizing that he must be a bird well worth picking, sent 


35 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

a bullet into his right ankle as he was lifting it thru the window 
and such a howl of pain no one ever heard before. The drummer 
thot he was killed entirely, and the way he howled and begged for 
his life disgusted the other passengers, for the little toolt was the 
only one of his race on the train. Even then he held onto his sam¬ 
ple-case and loudly protested against giving it up. Kut had no time 
to parley with him, so he handed him a clip over his bean that 
promptly put him down and out. Some of the passengers thot that 
New York had lost a citizen and Judea a descendant, but they were 
poor guessers. The thot of losing all that wealth would have been 
enuff to bring any member of his race back from Death—or any other 
place. The other passengers readily gave up their cash and valua¬ 
bles without further protest, tor not one of them was armed, and 
it would have done them little good if they had been. The way 
the robber dealt with the Jew was enuff for the most skeptical or 
obdurate. It took about ten minutes to finish the job, and then 
Kut applied the air-brakes and brot the train to almost a sudden 
stop. He then swung off and disappeared down a side street out 
in the suburbs. He had his suit-case and a big leather hand-bag, 
in the latter of which he stored the Jew’s sample-case. 

After walking a few blocks, he found a big barn at the rear 
of a big house that stood back half a block from the street. The 
barn opened out on the alley, and into this Kut dodged and soon 
found the room where the hostler lived, and as this contained lights, 
running water, soap and towels, it took Kut but a few minutes to 
remove the black “make-up” materials and appear in his proper 
person; then he slipped out and on down thru the orchard to the 
rear, and soon emerged upon another street that had a strelk line. 
{Strelk is the new word for a street car.) He boarded the first car 
going toward the city, and in about twenty minutes was down town 
and looking for a good hotel; he was soon domiciled in the principal 
hostelry. The next morning he went out and bought another big 
suit-case, in which he stored his valuables. The money he carried 
in two big belts and sewed up in his underclothing. This train rob¬ 
bery netted him over $62,000 in cash and about $130,000 in dia¬ 
monds and other precious stones. That night he started for Mon¬ 
tana and the pursuit of Brinkley. All that day the bright police 
arrested negroes all over St. Paul and Minneapolis, but could not 
fasten the “hold-up” on any of the poor devils. 

After about two days en route , Kut arrived in Butte, Montana, 
and began his hunt for Brinkley. How he succeeded we will defer 


RED KLOVER. 


36 

telling until a later date, and in the meantime we ask our readers to 
accompany us to a small country town away back and down in the 
Ozarks of Missouri, where we will presently introduce them to the 
Suffrajet of our story. 


Chapter XII. 

MISS KELDORA MISSOURI STORM. 

Away back in the early sixties Colonel Lexington Storm, of 
Kentucky, was married to Miss Veldena Birdsong, of Mississippi, 
at Natchez, Miss. The Colonel came of the best and proudest 
blood of the Old South, and his ancestors came from Virginia and 
the Carolinas. He was reared near Lexington, Ky., and when his 
parents passed away he drifted to New Orleans, and at one of the 
old-time Mardi-Gras festivals in the Crescent City he met a rare 
and beautiful girl that was a real daughter of the Southland. She 
lived in Natchez, Miss., with her widowed mother and a younger 
brother. She was just, in her twentieth year when she met the dis¬ 
tinguished and dashing young Kentuckian, and the attraction was 
mutual from the start. The Colonel paid ardent court and soon 
sought her hand in marriage. He was accepted and they were mar¬ 
ried in the Crescent City. The newly married couple took a river 
trip for their honeymoon, and after a tew months’ sojourn on the 
Mississippi and Ohio rivers, they returned to Natchez, Miss., on ac¬ 
count of Veldena’s mother being seriously ill with the dread yelllow 
fever. After a brief illness, she suddenly passed away. 

In the meantime Lex (as his intimates called him) had received 
two letters from an old college chum who had left Kentucky and gone 
out into the wilds of Missouri to find fortune or anything else that 
State had to offer. He located in the southern part of the State and 
discovered that it was a peach of a country. He begged Lex to 
come out there and locate and help him grow up with the country. 
It was very healthy and the yellow fever was never known there. 
This sounded good to Lex and his young wife, so they set their prow 
toward Missouri and arrived about the middle of September, when 
the fruits and everything else are ripe and beautiful. Things looked 
good to them and they decided to stick. Lex and Veldena both 
had considerable money and saw the wisdom of investing in that 
wonderful soil; so they bought up about 1500 acres of fine farm 
and grazing land for a mere song, built themselves a log house and 
went to farming and stock-raising on a large scale. They pros- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 37 

pered from the start and, as they loved each other, they were very 
happy and contented. 

About two years after their arrival, a rare and radiant little 
girl came to bless this perfect union and to add new flowers and 
jewels of happiness to their lives. She was all that any couple 
could wish or desire and brought their lives closer together, if such 
a thing were possible. As the Colonel and his wife were both ro¬ 
mantic and sentimental, they decided on a rare and beautiful name 
for the little one— Miss Keldora Missouri Storm , and the youngster 
surely did live up to it. 

Colonel Lexington Storm and his wife were both educated and 
talented people and both of them were musicians of no mean degree. 
Veldena was also an artist and their cabin bore testimony to her 
talent and good taste. When two such exceptional and talented 
people of romantic and artistic mould unite under the banner of 
Love and live in such a wild and beautiful habitat as southern Mis¬ 
souri was at that time, it is no wonder their rare talents and excep¬ 
tional natures were united and amplified in their offspring. They 
weren’t long in discovering that their daughter was a genius and 
also had “a mind of her very own” as the Colonel remarked to his 
wife one evening when Keidora was about two years old. The Colonel 
and his wife were both radical and broad-minded, and had never 
allied themselves with the church, as most of their nabors had done. 
Of course they were severely criticised by their pious nabors for this 
scandalous dereliction of duty, as it was generally termed in the 
naborhood; but as the Storm family were moral and well-behaved 
people and always led in all good and charitable work, the criticisms 
of the pious and Heaven-bound folks failed to make much of an 
impression. 

Keldora was a chip off both the old blocks, so to speak, and 
as she grew up a wild and woolly little Missouri flower , she was not 
only the joy of their lives, but the pride and terror of the nabor¬ 
hood. She not only early showed a marked talent for music and 
art, but developed a “ruling spirit ,” as old Deacon Stuart termed 
it. When the youngster was about five years old the Deacon found 
her out in a near-by orchard one day, trying to teach a pet sheep 
to do some fancy steps that greatly resembled a waltz movement. 
He watched the child for a few minutes, and then in a shocked 
voice exclaimed: 

“My child,you can’t teach a sheep such wicked things as danc¬ 
ing, and you must not try to any more!” 


38 


RED KLOVER. 


“You know a heap what I can do,” sarcastically returned the 
child in a mildly defiant manner that both shocked and surprised 
the good man. “Just watch me, Mr. Deak, and I’ll show you a few 
things you don’t happen to know. ” 

“Attention, Billie! Right! left! right! left!” and the child illus¬ 
trated the step so perfectly and easily that the sheep was soon sway¬ 
ing gently from side to side and keeping step with the child. She 
then put her arm around Billie’s (the sheep’s) neck and loved and 
petted him awhile and gave him a lump of sugar; then she squared 
off and resumed the dancing lesson—much to the Deacon’s amuse¬ 
ment and disapproval. 

“Now, Billie, right! left! right! left! Swing around — no! no! 
not that way, Billie! Do it this way,” and she demonstrated it so 
perfectly that, after a few awkward trials, the sheep was able to 
execute the turn in the waltz movement in a way that would have 
delighted any old-time dancing master. Then she petted Billie some 
more and divided her last two lumps ot sugar with him. 

“Now, Mr. Deak, you see you don’t know what a reai live- 
wire can do,” and she made a low and mock bow toward the man 
of God that further shocked and provoked him. “Some of these 
days, when I get thru with Billie’s lessons, I’ll see if I can’t teach 
you a few fancy steps.” Then she put her arm around Billie’s neck 
and the two wandered farther away down in the orchard. 

“Sakes alive!” exclaimed the good Deacon to himself as he 
started back toward the road to resume his journey homeward. 
“What on earth will we all do with such a child of the Devil in our 
midst?” 

Chapter XIII. 

KELDORA ATTENDS HER FIRST SCHOOL. 

As Colonel and Mrs. Storm did not believe in rushing a child’s 
education, little Keldora was not sent to school until she was nearly 
eight; however, her mother had carefully taught her the alphabet 
and many of the rudiments of spelling, reading, etc.; so, when the 
few widely scattered settlers of that wild region had finally built 
themselves a rough log school-house and had secured the Rev. Sil¬ 
vester Powers, an old-time circuit-rider who visited them occasion¬ 
ally, to teach the first term for them, the Storms decided it might 
be best to send Keldora and see if she could learn anything. 

“If she doesn’t learn anything from the reverend teacher,” fa¬ 
cetiously remarked Lex to his wife, the Sunday evening before the 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 39 

school was to begin, “she’ll most likely teach him a few kinks that 
won’t hurt him very much.” 

“Yes, dear husband, our little hoidenish Sunbeam is quite capa¬ 
ble of making the pious old sky-owl sit up and blink a little.” 

Then Veldena slipped an arm thru her husband’s and they wan¬ 
dered down the little shaded path that led to the bubbling spring 
down near the little Singing Brook that purled and yodled by their 
cabin and then silently sparkled away around a hazy-topped mount¬ 
ain that loomed in the distance. The location of their home was 
romantic and ideal to the last degree. The cabin nestled at the 
foot of a majestic-looking mountain and commanded an excellent 
view of the winding valley beyond, and also the ravine to the rear 
and down which dreamed a typical little mountain brook from 
the haze-capped peaks beyond; and just where this little stream 
of pure and clear water made a bend to the right in order to flow 
along with the valley the Storms had built their cabin home on 
the inside of this elbow;* so their house faced south-east and looked 
out on the river from the east, the south-east and south and south¬ 
west, and the gently sloping Ozark mountain stood like a faithful 
sentinel all around them to the rear; and about half-way from the 
cabin to the brook was a cool and bubbling spring of delicious soft 
water—an Ozark nectar that would inspire a wooden Indian to 
write vers libre and sing alto with the whippoorwills. All the way 
from the cabin door down to the spring and on to the river they- 
had built a beautiful grape-vine arbor and had trained morning 
glory vines all over it, so the purple flowers could help the ripening 
grapes sing weird matins to the morning sun—the great God of Day. 
And oh, how the wild birds did revel and sing in the leafy bower! 
and how soon they became friends of the Storm family, and pals 
of little Keldora! The birds soon learn who their friends are, and 
once the little winged citizens of Nature know that you are civ¬ 
ilized and will not harm them, they are friends indeed. It was in 
this ideal environment of wild and natural beauty that this strange 
and talented child received her first impressions of life, and as her 
parents had not taught her any religion o r superstition, it is no 
wonder she did not get along very well with her new teacher—the 
Rev. Silvester Powers, circuit-rider and school-master. The child 
did not know the meaning of deceit nor hypocrisy, and anything 
that was not honest and natural shocked her. Her whole life and 
that of her parents had been honest and natural and all her im¬ 
pulses were good and kind. She had been taught by her parents 


40 


RED KLOVER. 


that she must be kind and fair to all that liveth. Lying was a word 
she never learned until she became a pupil of the Rev. Powers. 

And all around this model little nest that Love and Art had 
built was a profusion of flowers in the front and all kinds of fruit 
trees and berry bushes to the rear and on both sides. This family 
of intellectuals and humanitarians were vegetarians, fruitarians and 
nutarians, and did not believe in killing the other creatures except 
in self-defense, and unless man was the aggressor and attacker, they 
seldom had any troubles with the other animals. The Ozarks are 
a natural land for fruit and flowers, and most of the food-nuts grow 
in wild profusion; in fact, it was only play in those days to make 
a good living. It is only the advent of the profiteers and their 
hellish system of gouging and short-weighting, and the inevitable 
wars and legal battles that grow out of the system, that has made 
life a pitiless struggle. Making a living was a mere incident then. 
The main thing was enjoying the beauties and unlimited bounties 
of Nature and being happy; to love and be loved; to keep in. close 
touch with our Great Primeval Mother — Mrs. Earth. 

When Man gave up his natural life, 

To take up the dollar-chase, 

He filled this world with woe and strife, 

And now it’s hell in every place. 

Under such a beautiful and natural environment, it’s no wonder 
Keldora developed into a rare and beautiful girl with a soul like a 
flower garden and a mind that fairly sizzled and sparkled with life 
and brilliancy. She was soon known as the Gem of the Ozarks. It 
was both amusing and interesting in later years to hear her relate 
her experience the “first day at school.” 

Besides herself, there were five other little girls and seven boys— 
kids ranging in age from six to eleven. All but two of them were 
on hand before the teacher arrived, and they hove to shortly after 
“school took up.” The reverend gentleman arrived aboard a dys¬ 
peptic and pessimistic-looking gray mule that seemed utterly beyond 
the power of prayer or hay. I doubt if “ Vicarious Atonement ” and 
Revised Peruna could have pried him out of his sins. He looked al¬ 
most as gloomy and sanctified as his master. At the forenoon recess 
those kids proceeded to look this Primeval Ford over from jib-boom 
to mizzenmast, and it didn’t take much mind-reading or clairvoy¬ 
ance to discover that his muleship had not made much of a hit with 
his master’s pupils. The little heathens didn’t say much, but it 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFFAJET. 41 

wouldn’t require a weather prophet to predict bad weather for that 
mule. Keldora, having been taught to “be kind to all that liveth,” 
was about the only friend that poor animal had; but he didn’t know 
it nor appreciate it then. When the noon hour arrived and school 
was “dismissed,” the teacher removed Jeremiah (the mule’s name) 
from the tree to which he had tied him on arriving that morning, 
and tied him to another sapling farther away and where the grass 
was more in evidence. Instead of proceeding to eat the grass, Jere¬ 
miah looked sullen and defiant and began to viciously paw the 
ground about the tree. 

“What’s the matter with the fetchtaked critter anyway?” ex¬ 
claimed the teacher, more to himself than to the children, who were 
silently watching the proceedings a short distance away. “Don’t 
any of you children go nigh Jeremiah nor pester him, for he may 
be goin’ to have one of his spells again!” admonished the reverend 
instructor in a tone of awe. 

This only whetted their appetites, for a mule that had “spells” 
was something decidedly new—and, of course, interesting. So, as 
soon as the teacher had sauntered back into the school-house, they 
appointed a committee of thirteen (their entire number) to investi¬ 
gate Jeremiah and see if they could diagnose his strange complaint. 
One of the boys (Tom Henley) said that he had an uncle who was 
a “hoss doctor” in Arkansaw, and he was elected chairman of the 
committee. Tom was something of a leading spirit anyway, and 
was always in the foremost rank when watermelons were to be stol¬ 
en, or any other expedition that savored of cussedness was to be 
carried thru. And it didn’t take the reverend teacher long to get 
Tom’s measure about right. He intuitively sensed from the first day 
of school that Tom Henley and righteousness were not exactly syn¬ 
onymous terms, so he wisely decided to keep a strict watch on the 
“little red-headed cuss,” as he designated the lad to himself. But 
the teacher’s opinion of him mattered not at all to Tom. Tom 
never had any ambition to be an angel in the “Next World” nor to 
win a bunch of E-marks from school-teachers in this world. Tom 
was in for a good time and it didn’t make any difference to him who 
paid the orchestra. 

After watching Jeremiah’s antics for awhile and venturing 
various opinions in regard to his mental status, Keldora sidled up 
toward his front end cautiously and when within about 3 feet from 
his oat-eating apparatus, she smiled and reached out a dainty and 
friendly hand toward his homely and tear-streaked nose, and coo- 


42 RED KLOVER. 

ingly asked of him: “What’s the matter with you, poor mule?” 

Whether or not the distressed animal understoood her language, 
he sensed that she was friendly and sympathetic, for he immedi¬ 
ately leaned his great long and gaunt ears forward to her and actu¬ 
ally smiled and tried to reach her with his nose. 

“Keep away from him, kid!” yelled several of the boys in one 
breath; “he’ll kill yer!” 

Keldora only smiled and reached out her hand and patted 
Jeremiah’s face and then came up closer and pressed her own face 
against his ugly one and continued to pet him and coo to him like 
a young mother trying to soothe her sick child. And the look of 
peace and happiness that radiated itself all over Jeremiah’s coun¬ 
tenance made him almost beautiful and human-looking. Then the 
child calmly announced that Jeremiah wanted water and his awful 
thirst made him almost delirious. 

“How’d yer know what ther pesky critter wants?” sneeringly 
asked Tom Henley. 

“ ’Cause he told me he did,” came back Keldora, and she gave 
Tom such a look of scorn and pity that it settled him. 

“Awh!ther mule cain’t talk to yer,” allowed Sam Phelps. 
“What yer givin’ us, kid?” 

“Course he can,” asserted the child; “he talks with his eyes, 
and I can understand him. I’m going to get him a drink.” 

Then she untied the animal, and with one hand on his bridle and 
the other one fondling his face, she led him like a docile sheep down 
to the brook near by, and it was a sight to see the way that poor 
animal did drink and drink. It seemed as tho he could not get enuff 
of the precious and life-giving fluid to quench his thirst; and when 
he had finally absorbed all his hide could hold, he gratefully turned 
to the child, rubbed his nose against her and refused to leave her. 
Then Keldora mounted to his back and in triumph rode back to 
the school-house just as the master came out to ring the “take-up” 
bell for the pupils to resume work for the afternoon. When he saw 
the girl astride Jeremiah and all the other kids trailing along and 
laffing and guying fit to kill, his wrath immediately kindled and he 
came running out to snatch her from Jeremiah’s back and to a place 
of safety, for he really feared the mule would hurt the child. 

“Little vixen! How dare you disobey me and risk your life on 
that pesky critter, that do be possessed of evil speerits at times?” 
went on the irate man of God and the Ozarks. And just as he 
landed Keldora in a place of safety Jeremiah landed on the reverend 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


43 


gentleman with both hind feet, that caught him square amidships, 
and when the children picked him up about 20 feet away and he 
was able to get his bearings once more, he observed that Jeremiah 
and Keldora were walking around toward the rear of the school- 
house with her arm around his neck and like a couple of lovers. 

“There goes that witch of Satan enticin’ of my mule away!” 
roared the Reverend as he limped and hobbled back to the school- 
house by the assistance of the children. 

The little imps were secretly glad that Jeremiah had taken 
judgment into his own hands — or heels, rather—and had admin¬ 
istered a knock-out blow the first round, and they all felt a sneaking 
pride in the mule after that, and changed their minds about play¬ 
ing pranks on the poor animal. Jeremiah had suddenly risen to new 
heights in their estimation, and they now regarded him as a pal and 
one of the gang. It developed that the man of God had ridden 
the poor beast all the preceding afternoon wdthout water and had 
“forgotten” to water him that night, and was in too big a hurry 
next morning to either feed or water the poor brute. He was so 
busy attending to “God’s work,” as he termed his pastoral duties, 
that he had no time to be just and merciful to one of his Master’s 
dumb creatures. The little girl’s kindness and humanity, or mule- 
anity, awoke the divine spark that is often dormant in the other 
animals, and Jeremiah became her disciple and slave. 

After nursing his wrath for a few minutes and groaning on the 
Brink of Profanity, the Reverend nervously announced that school 
would be out for the day, but he hoped to be on deck for to-morrow. 
He asked Tom and some of the older boys to catch Jeremiah for 
him, as he must take the pesky critter home in some way. The 
boys were reluctant to do so, but he finally prevailed on them to 
help him; so they set out around the school-house, but Jeremiah 
and Keldora w r ere both disappearing down around the hill and to¬ 
ward the girl’s home. Jeremiah followed along at the child’s heels 
and kept rubbing his nose and chin on her shoulders in the most 
affectionate manner; and at intervals she would stop to pet him and 
mumble something to the poor animal that only creatures with souls 
can understand; and it seemed that poor Jeremiah had the biggest 
kind of a soul—only his former master had never been able to reach 
it—with brutality and neglect. 

Tom and the other kids hurried after the fleeing lovers and 
halloed for them to stop, as the teacher wanted his mule back. 


44 


RED KLOVER. 


“All right; come on and get him, boys, ” calmly invited Keldora. 
Then she stepped a few feet away and waited for their move. 

Jeremiah turned hie head and quietly looked the boys over a 
minute, and as he seemed to divine their purpose, he laid his long, 
steamboat-smokestack ears back almost level with his neck and 
waited. Sam and Tom and Jake ( Fensler ) carefully approached the 
animal and tried to talk sweet and friendly camouflage to him, like 
they had heard Keldora use, but Jeremiah knew friends from enemies. 
When the boys had reached a point about 20 feet away, they began 
to divide and circle around him, with the evident intention of mak¬ 
ing a simultaneous attack from three directions; but Jeremiah was 
something of a military tactician himself, so he immediately start¬ 
ed a counter-movement that put his enemies to rout in a hurry. 
He reversed himself and ran rapidly backward about 10 feet and 
then jumped into the air, and as he came down his hind feet shot 
out like lightning, and Tom barely ducked a knock-out blow on the 
head. He received part of it on his right shoulder and that ex¬ 
tracted most of the belligerency out of Thomas. Jake was not so 
fortunate in side-stepping Jeremiah’s uppercuts, so he received a 
left heel on the side of his face and went down and out, Sam sud¬ 
denly remembered that his folks had often told him to always hurry 
home as soon as school was out. 

Regarding his work with satisfaction and approval, Jeremiah 
turned aside where the grass was tender and sweet and proceeded 
to treat himself to a bellyful of uncut hay, while Keldora became 
a Red Cross nurse and administered “first aid” to the injured. She 
soon revived Jake, and after finding that the boys could get home 
all right, she went over and patted Jeremiah on the neck and said 
some soft nothing in that mysterious soul-language of hers, and then 
she and her new friend and champ again started for the girl’s home. 

When they arrived at the Storm yard, both Colonel and Mrs. 
Storm were seated on the front porch, chatting and dreaming. They 
were rather surprised at Keldora’s strange and forlorn-looking guest; 
however, they were getting used to her surprises. She hurriedly 
related the day’s experiences and the early dismissal of the school. 
Her parents roared with laffter, but informed her that the animal 
must be returned to its rightful owner. 

“I just know he won’t ever stay with that cruel old fiddlestick, ” 
pouted the child, for she had a strong sense of the victor and dis¬ 
liked to give up her spoils—and wasn’t Jeremiah her spoils, that she 


45 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

had fairly won thru kindness and humanity? “Ask the mule,” 
pouted the little one to herself. 

“The Reverend will be over to-morrow after his mount, and 
we must restore him, my dauter,” explained the Colonel. 

The child hadn’t a very clear insight, as yet, into man’s laws 
of ownership , and she persisted that the decision should be left to 
Jeremiah. 

“All right, little sunbeam; we’ll see what Jeremiah has to say 
about it when the Reverend comes after him,” assured the father. 

Then Keldora hurried down to where the animal was content¬ 
edly browsing in the lower part of the yard, and gently led him 
away toward the stable and there found some corn and oats for her 
guest, and while he lazily ate to repletion she got a curry-comb and 
gave him the only real soul-satisfying scratching he ever had; and 
the grunts of approval and pleased looks he bestowed on the child 
well repaid Keldora for all her trouble. But it was never a bit of 
trouble for her to be kind and help others; she had been taught 
the religion of Humanity and the Power of Kindness. 

The next forenoon the Reverend and a cousin of his came over 
with a couple of ropes to lasso the truant and bring him to repent¬ 
ance, as the man of God expressed it to his nabors. This cousin 
was the only help the Reverend could command, and he would have 
declined, only he was in debt to the teacher and owed him other 
obligations. 

Keldora was up early that morning and had prepared a dainty 
little breakfast for her belligerent guest, and had had quite a talk 
with him. 

As soon as Jeremiah saw his enemies approaching with ropes, a 
malignant look of hatred steadied his eyes, and he slanted those 
wonderful ears back at just the right angle, and then decided to go 
over the top, like the Yanks and “Ladies of Hell.” He ran in a 
semi-crouching attitude directly at the teacher, and as the lame man 
tried to cast his rope over the mule’s head Jeremiah ducked just 
in time to miss it, and in another second he was upon his former 
master with both fore feet and had him by the neck with his mouth. 
Just then the other man ran up and tried to throw his rope over 
Jeremiah’s neck, but it fell short and rolled off his back. Just as 
he rushed up to get his rope for another try Jeremiah made one 
of his famous back jumps and landed with both heels on the man’s 
chest. 

The fight was over, and Jeremiah stood erect, with a challenge 


46 


RED KLOVER. 


in both eyes, and quietly walked back to the yard fence, where Kel- 
dora was, all smiles. He walked with the air of a conqueror— 
the proud and defiant step of a Napoleon, a Pershing or a Foch. 
Keldora greeted him as her sex has always greeted the conqueror. 
Then she slipped him a lump of maple sugar and whispered a mys¬ 
terious something in his long and willing ears. Then he looked back 
at his routed and wounded foes with an actual smile on his home¬ 
ly face. 

Keldora then hurried to help her parents give “first aid” to the 
wounded and to carry the men to the house. They were not seri¬ 
ously hurt, and* after resting a few hours and partaking of refresh¬ 
ments, decided they did not want any more mule. 

The Reverend insisted on having “the pesky brute of Satan” 
shot and fed to “the sky-soaring buzzards”; but Keldora demurred 
to this useless piece of brutality, and the Colonel asked the Rever¬ 
end the value of the mule. “Erbout a fifty, I reckon,” the man 
of God allowed. The Colonel promptly bought Jeremiah at this fig¬ 
ure, and the man of God and his cousin departed. 

Keldora was delighted, for the child and the mule had become 
real pals. It was a beautiful sight to see the little girl riding the 
patient and faithful animal about the naborhood, and when the 
story became local history and the truth of the matter came out, 
Jeremiah and Keldora were welcomed everywhere. For years af¬ 
terward she rode him to and from school and in to the village 5 miles 
away and over on the other side of the mountain. 

After resting up a bit, the reverend teacher decided to serve his 
Master in new fields; so he got one of the Billings boys to “car¬ 
ry” him over to a naboring town about 30 miles away and into 
Arkansaw. 

The school went glimmering for nearly a year before they se¬ 
cured another teacher. The new teacher was a young lady from 
Tennessee, and she at once became popular with the kids, for she 
ruled them with kindness, and as she lived at the Storm home, she 
and Keldora were pals from the start and hit it off beautifully to¬ 
gether. She was only twenty and this was her first school, but she 
made good and kept the school for nearly five years, until she yield¬ 
ed to the pleadings of Cupid , and married a fine young man of the 
naborhood. 

Jeremiah liked the new teacher as well as the pupils did, and it 
was no uncommon sight on Saturdays to see both girls riding him 
over to the village or around in the naborhood on Sundays and even- 


47 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

ings. They never had to hitch him, for he was faithful and always 
there when they were ready to start. What a lesson Keldora had 
taught that cold and heartless man of God in the use of kindness 
as a ruling force for eithei man or beast! Everything responds to it 
and is lifted up and made better by it. 

Chapter XIV. 

KELDORA ATTENDS HER FIRST FAIR. 

Keldora was heart-broken when her beloved teacher and all- 
around pal, Miss Wilma Weston, gave up school-teaching for the 
big and mysterious fields of matrimony, for the child realized in a 
faint way that her chum was lost to her forever. Keldora was very 
deep and constant in all her likes and dislikes, and she did hate to 
give up her beloved Wilma; but Fate had issued her inexorable 
decree and there was no appeal from the decision. Miss Weston 
was a high-grade young woman and endowed with a deep and af¬ 
fectionate nature, and she felt the primal urge in her clamoring for 
love and a nest of her own and some little ones to make life com¬ 
plete and furnish the finishing touch of color. Keldora had learned 
very rapidly under Miss Weston’s tutelage, for she was such a nat¬ 
urally bright child it was no trouble at all for her to learn and to 
retain everything she learned. Her teacher declared that Keldora 
had caught up with her and wasfpassing on beyond her; so she told 
the Storms that the child should now be sent to an exclusive and 
high-class school for young ladies, where her remarkable talents 
might receive the finishing touches; so it was decided to take her 
to Nashville and there place her in charge of such an institution, 
as that was the nearest point to such a school. 

Springfield, Missouri, was about the only place in the Ozarks 
that could be called a town, in those wild and woolly days, and it 
required considerable elasticity of the imagination to so designate it. 
But Springfield was the biggest pebble on the Ozark beach, at all 
events, and to advertise themselves and emphasize their importance 
the good people of that burg organized a County Fair and invited 
the whole of creation to come on and enjoy themselves. There 
were no lids and Bevo in those dear old days. “Eat, drink and do 
just as you damned please” was the rule. It was taken for granted 
that most of the boobs had enuff sense to behave themselves fairly 
well, so the people squeezed along without lids and substitutes. The 
fairs in those good old days of peace and plenty were different affairs 
from what they are to-day. They were more like social gatherings 


48 


RED KLOVER. 


of the country and town people for the purpose of exhibiting the 
best products of the farm and factories, and to visit and exchange 
news and ideas; in short, to have a real old-fashioned Fall Festival — 
a revival of the old pagan festivals to celebrate the harvests and 
autumn’s rich content; and as horses were a large part of man’s life, 
both in the towns and country, the horse-races were a large and 
popular part of all such fairs. The fakir, the crook and thedollar- 
chaser were not much in evidence in those days. The people went 
there for a good time—not to chase dollars. Colonel Storm, like 
all true Kentuckians, was a lover of horseflesh, and always had some 
animals that could go some. 

Before carrying Keldora off to Nashville, which place would be 
more like a prison than anything else to a wild and free nature like 
the child possessed, her parents decided to take her to the great fair 
at Springfield and let her see the many sights, the most of which 
would be new and wonderful to the child. Colonel Storm had the 
finest team of perfectly matched young gray mares that were just 
four years old, and he also had faith in their stepping abilities: so 
he decided to drive them in their new harness and to the family 
carriage, which seated four persons comfortably. Wilma’s husband, 
Robert Clinton Page, had planned to go in his two-seated top- 
buggy, but two days before one of his high-steppers had severely 
hurt its leg getting over a fence, so it could not be used until it had 
recovered. The Colonel invited the youngsters to go with him and 
Mrs. Storm in their family carriage, as that would just make a nice 
little family party. Of course Keldora could squeeze in somewhere 
between them; but that wild and reckless little Indian had formed 
other plans—she would ride her own fiery little pony, Prince Fleet- 
foot. This pony was also a goer when he and Keldora were both 
in the mood for some reckless speeding. It was no unusual thing 
to see her and the Prince go flying along the road at the modest 
rate of about oo. miles an hour. Her mother tried to persuade her 
to leave Prince at home and go with them in the carriage, but Kel¬ 
dora had her heart set on riding her own mount, and then she could 
have some fun if she wanted to; and it wasn’t often she didn’t en¬ 
joy some fun and excitement. The Colonel was always inclined to 
side in with her, and the child usually had her own way, and so it 
was in this case; therefore Keldora rode her Prince and she surely 
sat him like an Arab or Gipsy princess. She could ride or drive 
anything that went on legs, wheels, wings or fins, and the wildest 
colts, that had never had even a halter on them, readily submitted 


49 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 

to her mastery and at once became docile and safe. The most stub¬ 
born creature the child ever rode was an old turkey gobbler that 
weighed 68 pounds in his stocking feet. Keldora was only three 
years old then, and the bird strenuously objected at first, but after 
a few hours of training and disciplining he submitted, but with his 
wings crossed; however, the little hoiden continued to ride him ev¬ 
ery day until he was used for a Thanksgiving dinner at the Storm 
cabin. Keldora had that Indefinable Something in her which made 
her the master of everything she went after. It was the dominant 
trait in her mind and early showed itself. So when they set out for 
the fair early Monday morning, Keldora led the party and decided 
to show them a few thrillers in the way of going a little. She gave 
Prince the signal to go ahead, and it was a sight to see them leave 
the Old Folks far behind. It was only about 85 miles to Spring- 
field, but they arrived late that afternoon and found lodgings for 
the night. 

The next day they all went out to the fair-grounds bright and 
early, for they did not want to miss anything. They drove right 
inside the grounds and unhitched their horses and tied them to the 
carriage, and Keldora anchored Prince to a burr oak sapling. Al¬ 
most everything was new and wonderful to the young people, and 
they surely did enjoy themselves. In the afternoon several races 
were scheduled to be run. The first was a mile pace, and the win¬ 
ner got $100; there were seven entries for this race. The next 
was a mile trot, and it was more exciting, as there were nine en¬ 
tries. Keldora wanted to take a flyer on this race, but her parents 
would not let her have the money. The last race for the day, and 
the big event, was a running race, but there were only six entries. 
As the beautiful animals were jockeyed up and down in front of 
the stand the audience had a chance to study and admire them. 

“Oh, papa! I just know that little black mare wili be the 
winner—bet on her for me?” coaxed the child. 

“No, dear; your father is not going to bet on any of the races,” 
quietly explained Mrs. Storm. 

“Umph! he’s afraid to,” butted in a stranger and in a tone 
of irritating sarcasm. 

This was too much for the Colonel’s Southern blood, so he 
quietly looked the man over with a critical eye and then indiffer¬ 
ently remarked: 

“Oh! am I? Perhaps the gentleman has a hundred dollars 
that talks the same way?” and the Colonel dug down in his jeans 


RED KLOVER. 


5 ° 

and fished out a fat and sassy roll that had a chip on its shoulder. 

“Sure thing, my friend—name your hoss,” and he got out 
quite a respectable-sized roll. 

“Bet it on the little black mare, papa, for I just know she will 
win,” urged Keldora and with the enthusiasm of a turf fan. 

“No, Lex; put up your money—don’t bet with a stranger ,” 
coldly flashed Mrs. Storm. 

“Beg pardon, sir, but my name is Henry Bracken, and I hail 
from Memphis. What might your name be?” said the man in cor¬ 
rect English. 

As the stranger had promptly introduced himself and seemed 
to be a man of education, the Colonel introduced himself, and an¬ 
nounced that he would try out a Century Willie Boy on his dauter’s 
judgment. Mr. Bracken promptly covered the Colonel’s hundred, 
and then easily remarked: 

“I really owe you an apology, sir, for the abrupt way I chal¬ 
lenged you, and I hope you will overlook it.” 

“Oh! that’s all right, sir—forget it. Have a smoke on me?” 
and the Colonel handed over his well-filled cigar-case. The stranger 
politely accepted one, but as he caught a look on Mrs. Storm’s face, 
he slipped it in his pocket and casually remarked he’d smoke it 
later on—“to quiet my nerves if I lose my bet.” 

After about ten minutes of jockeying, the nags were off, and 
they had about as fair and even a start as it is possible to get. 

“Remember,” observed Colonel Storm to the stranger, “I’m 
betting that the little black mare wins. Which one are you betting 
on, sir?” 

“Oh! I’m just betting that she won’t,” smiled Mr. Bracken. 

“That way you have the field backed against my choice,” dry¬ 
ly observed the Colonel; “but it’s all right—we’re game, aren’t we, 

Kel?” 

“Sure thing, papa—the little black wins against the field, or 
I’m no judge of horses,” defiantly laffed Keldora. 

They had to go around the track twice to make the mile, and 
at the half a long and rangy bay horse with the chassis of a jack- 
rabbit and a war-plane was a little in the lead; but when they came 
under the wire on the first round a long-limbed sorrel had a length 
the best of it, and the black mare was only third and seemed to be 
losing ground. Mrs. Storm groaned, but the Colonel and Keldora 
sat firm and almost held their breath. At the half post on the 
second and last round the little black had forged up to the second 


‘ THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 51 

place, and she and the stork-legged sorrel seemed to be playing 
poker and the sky was the only limit. At the three-quarter post 
the sorrel was doing his level best, but the little mare was breathing 
hard right on his neck and gaining slightly. The audience began 
to scramble to their feet and yell and shout. Keldora let out a 
yell like a lost demon, and it seemed that the little mare heard it 
or understood it, for she made a tremendous spurt ahead and came 
in under the wire nearly two lengths ahead of the sorrel. There 
was the usual wild shouting snd groaning, but Keldora just gave 
one big jump and landed with both arms around her father’s neck 
and laffed and cried by turns, and then kissed and kissed him until 
her mother took her in charge. Bracken was game and politely 
congratulated the “little sport,” as he facetiously called Keldora. 
She told him she was sorry he lost so much money, but she was so 
glad her papa was the one to win it. Mrs. Storm tried to look dig¬ 
nified and provoked at her husband and dauter, but it was no go. 
Woman-like, she couldn’t help admiring the victors—and especially 
as they were her loved ones. 

The next day was a busy and eventful one in which Keldora 
carried off the honors. There was only one horse-race that day, 
but quite a lot of foot-races and other athletic sports. Among the 
foot-races was one for children from ten to fifteen, and the prize 
was a five-dollar gold-piece. There were seventeen boys in this and 
one timid little red-headed girl of eleven; but when she saw that 
she was the only girl entering it, she was for backing out. Keldora 
wanted to get in this race and win new laurels, but her mother just 
would not hear of it; and the Colonel rather sided with his wife 
this time. 

“Oh, mama! my foot hurts me—I’ve got some sand or some¬ 
thing in my shoe,” and she stooped down to fumble with her shoe, 
and when she found her parents were not paying much attention 
to her, she ducked away and ran around to where the judges were 
sorting up the kids for the race and to see that older ones did not 
slip in on it. The little girl that was going in it was standing by 
and looking very much disappointed. Keldora went up to her and 
put her arm around the child’s shoulders and asked: 

“Won’t they let little girls run in this race?” 

“Yes; but as I was the only girl that was going in it, I backed 
out,” modestly admitted the child. 

“Back out nothing!” thundered Keldora, with blazing eyes; 
“we ’ll just show those smart old boys that they aren’t the only kids 


52 


RED KLOVER. 


that’s got limber legs! Off with your shoes, kid, and I’ll run with 
you.” And with this both girls sat down and tore off their shoes 
and stockings. 

One of the judges, seeing their actions and divining their inten¬ 
tions, came up and remarked: 

“You girls had better keep out’n this, for you have no chance 
anyway. There are three boys in that crowd that can do some 
lively stepping, I’m tellin’ you. How old are you, sissyr” he asked 
Keldora. 

“I’m thirteen, and I’ll just show you whether or not those 
boys can run,” she handed right back to him. 

“All right; I ain’t sayin’ you can’t run, but you have no show 
to win.” Then he went back to his two companions and told them 
the two little girls wanted to run. 

“Sure thing,” laffed his companion, who was something of a 
sport; “the more the merrier, and we want to give the people the 
worth of their money.” 

So it was settled, and the seventeen boys and the two little 
girls were all lined up and made to toe a line, so they would all 
have a fair start. 

Mrs. Storm had soon missed Keldora and she and the Colonel 
had inaugurated a search for her. Just then they heard a shout 
and rushed back to the rail to see the race, and to their consterna¬ 
tion Keldora was running down the center of the bunch, bareheaded 
and hair flying like an Indian, but gaining at every step. The dist¬ 
ance was only 500 yards—a straight dash down the track in front 
of the stand. The other little girl {Mina Phelps ) was also holding 
her own, and was only outrun by two of the taller boys and only 
by about 3 feet; but Keldora just easily left them all behind and 
won by fully 30 feet. She seemed to just fly. She received the 
five dollars in gold and a tremendous ovation, for in those days it 
was an unheard-of thing for a girl to do such a thing, and then to 
actually win and by such a big margin! The men rushed around 
her and picked her up and carried her on their shoulders up to the 
stand, and everybody wanted to know whose girl she was, etc. The 
Colonel and his wife finally made their way thru the crowd and 
rescued her. The judges introduced themselves and wanted to 
know where they lived and a thousand other things. And oh, how 
the little Indian did enjoy her triumph and treasure that gold-piece! 
The Colonel was secretly pleased that she had won the race, but 
his wife felt that the child was making too much of an exhibition 


53 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

of herself and bringing them all into the limelight too publicly; but 
it made no difference to Keldora, for she had won fairly and was 
entitled to her laurels. 

“Papa, you keep this gold-piece for me and let me have another 
five?’’ coaxed Keldora, for she wouldn’t think of spending it. 

“All right, dear; here you are—a brand-new five-dollar bill.” 

Keldora slipped it down in her stocking and looked supremely 
happy; and so was the Colonel proud and happy to be the father 
of such a child. 

“Why, she has really won one hundred and five dollars since 
coming up here, for if it had not been for her wanting to back the 
little mare, and Biacken’s impudent taunt, I would never have bet 
on the race at all, for Veldena is so opposed to gambling and such 
things. Why, this money she’s won will more than pay for our 
expenses up here and leave quite a tidy sum for her trip to Nash¬ 
ville,” murmured the Colonel to himself. “I wouldn’t take a mil¬ 
lion for her—even if she does keep her mother and me in fear 
and trembling most of the time,” continued the father, with a proud 
look on his handsome features. “I wonder what’ll be her next 
venture—for she is quite capable of putting over most anything 
that will astonish the natives.” 

That night they all went to the theater and Keldora saw her 
first performance, and declared that she could do most of what they 
did, and do it better, too. Mrs. Storm laffed at the girl’s con- 
ceil, but the Colonel didn’t know about it. He was now ready to 
baek his little dauter in almost anything she set her willful little 
head on. 

That night Keldora asked for her gold-piece and kissed it and 
petted it, and then sewed it up between two ribbons and tied it 
around her neck—“Just for luck, papa,” she naively averred. 

“All right, dear; anything to please our darling.” And he 
then took her in his arms and loved and petted her until it was 
time to retire. She was the apple of his eye—the peach of his soul. 
That night she dreamed of the little black mare and the gold-piece, 
and her dreams surely were rosy and full of tangled vines and wild 
flowers. 

They all went early to the grounds again the next day, and in 
the forenoon there was an exhibition on the race-track of fine horses, 
colts, ponies, cattle, etc. The Colonel drove his fine grays around 
the track and won first prize (ten dollars) for the best matched span 
of driving and buggy horses. Keldora was tickled with this, for 


54 


RED KLOVER . 


she dearly loved all their horses, and they all loved the child and 
obeyed her slightest command. 

The last race that afternoon was a “pony-race ” and the prize 
money was twenty-five dollars. The ponies were to weigh less than 
800, and were to be ridden by boys of fifteen or under. Here was 
a chance for Keldora to gain some more laurels and show the rubes 
what her beloved Prince could do. Mrs. Storm was very much 
opposed to it, but the Colonel couldn’t find a peg to hang an ob¬ 
jection on. 

‘‘You know, Lex, if anything should happen to the child, we 
would never forgive ourselves. Prince might fall and throw her and 
she might get killed,” went on the timid and cautious mother. 

“Oh, mother! you’re such a croaker—to always be throwing 
cold water on the child and her desires.” And the Colonel looked 
real provoked and hurt, for he knew that Keldora had her heart 
set on running her Prince in this race; and what if he didn’t win— 
she’d enjoy the sport anyway, and it doesn’t cost anything to try. 

“Well, do as you think best; but if anything happens, you’re 
entirely to blame.” And then she turned to talk to one of their 
nabors who was also attending the fair. 

Keldora threw her arms around her daddy’s neck and fairly 
danced with delight and just smothered him with kisses and caresses. 
They went and got Prince ready and had him weighed, as that was 
the ruling of the judges, and he just pulled it down to 762—a close 
shave. 

Awh! that fat old thing can’t run,” jibed a young fellow of 
about eighteen, and who had matted freckles that could make a 
crazy quilt green with envy. 

“Have you any money to bet on it, Mr. Freckles?” shot Kel¬ 
dora back at him so quickly the other kids and young fellows gave 
him the laugh. Freckles had just blowed his last dime on a pink 
lemonade for his best girl—Sally Flanders—and wasn’t even a tin¬ 
horn sport any more. 

While the judges were weighing all the ponies about which 
there could be any doubts of over-weight, Keldora fondled Prince 
and whispered a lot of Mysterious Somethings in his short and point¬ 
ed little ears, and as he frequently nodded and smiled, it is prob¬ 
able that he understood what his mistress was saying. 

When Mr. Bracken learned that the “little sport” was the 
proud possessor of a stogy little pony and was going to run him in 
the pony-race, he went around to where the nags were being weighed 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


55 


and groomed for the start. After studying Prince awhile and look¬ 
ing him over carefully, he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously 
and remarked so that the girl could hear him: 

“That little dump might run into the barn in time for oats and 
hay, but that’s about all!” 

Keldora caught this shot, and when she saw who fired it, she 
went right “over the top” after him: 

“Oh! is that so, Mr.—er—Mr. Bracken, I believe? Perhaps 
you have another- hundred you’d like to lose?” and she said it in 
such a fine tone of irony and scorn that it got under his cuticle good 
and plenty. 

• “Sure thing, little sport; I’d like to lose money all day on that 
streak of lightning ,” he boastingly replied. 

This was too much—the idea of anyone daring to poke fun at 
her beloved Prince! 

“Oh, papa! here’s Mr.—er—Bracken again, and he’s just itch¬ 
ing to lose another hundred that my Prince can’t run. Let me have 
the hundred, papa, dear, and we’ll show this would-be sport a few 
things?” 

“How do you want to bet this time, Mr. Bracken?” asked the 
Colonel, in order that there might not be any misunderstanding. 

“Why, I’m betting a hundred that pudgy little tub don’t win 
the race.” 

“Done!” said the Colonel, and he promptly covered the gentle¬ 
man’s money. 

Then everybody began to crowd around the girl and her nag 
and make remarks and ask questions. Finally everything was ready*, 
and the boys mounted on their steeds, fell in line and awaited t lie 
signal to go. 

There were nineteen contestants and the distance was half a 
mile—one lap around the track. Keldora was the only girl in the 
bunch and the boys guyed her unmercifully and tried to rattle her 
so she wouldn’t ride well; but they didn’t know Keldora and the 
kind of stock she came from. Keldora never scared. She was a 
Storm, and they couldn’t be bluffed by anyone or anything. 

Everybody on the grounds was crowded around the track to 
see the pony-race, for it had become known that the little Storm 
girl had taken up the gauntlet that had been thrown down to her 
pony, and she wasn’t the kind to take a dare from anyone; and the 
Colonel would rather have lost many times the amount he wagered 
than to have his little pet girl bluffed and humiliated. He was a 


56 


RED KLOVER. 


Storm, and a challenge meant fight where he was raised, and Kel- 
dora was indeed a chip off the old Storm block. Keldora wisely 
got around as near the inside of the track as possible, and there 
were only two ponies nearer the inside than hers. She had looked 
them all over and felt confident and hopeful. 

The signal to go was at last given, and every pony except two 
jumped to it and plunged ahead as if they understood the import¬ 
ance of being the winner. Before they reached the first quarter 
Prince had got the inside and was gaining rapidly. When they 
reached the half only three others were within io feet of Prince, and 
at the three-quarter post Prince was just beginning to get inter¬ 
ested and shot ahead with such velocity that Keldora had to turn 
lier head in order to breathe, and when he came under the wire he 
was fully 300 feet ahead of his nearest competitor. The crowd 
went wild and made a rush for the girl and rode her on their shoul¬ 
ders around in front of the stand, and when the Colonel tried to 
rescue her, they picked him up and carried him also on their shoul¬ 
ders and shouted themselves hoarse. Talk about heroes—Keldora 
and her dad were some Ittttsss all right enough. 

Bracken was still game and came up and congratulated the 
“little sport” and said it was worth several times that amount to 
see her ride; and he ’lowed that he’d give a million if he had a gal 
like that. 

That night they attended the theater again, and when the cur¬ 
tain went down on the first act, the audience yelled and shouted for 
“Miss Storm” to get up on the stage and say something. And they 
wouldn’t be denied, either; so the manager of the company came 
down to where the Storms were seated and begged the “young lady” 
to respond to the tremendous encore she was receiving. Mrs. Storm 
protested violently, but the Colonel allowed it wouldn’t hurt any¬ 
thing if Keldora did go up on the stage and say a few words, seeing 
the audience were set on hearing her; so Keldora jumped up and 
ran down the aisle before the manager could tell her to come with 
him and he’d introduce her. She deftly placed one hand on the 
footlight rail and lightly vaulted over it and landed on the stage 
with both feet. It was a remarkable feat and started the wild ap¬ 
plause going again. She struck an attitude of humorous attention 
and waited for the applause to subside so she could speak. Then 
she said, with a low and mock bow: 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not much on speakifying, but I 
can run a little and I know a few things about Nature’s noblest 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 57 

creature—the horse (great applause ); and if you’re good to these 
poor friends of ours, you’ll never have any trouble with them. Long 
live this faithful and patient animal, and when he cashes in and 
lights out for the Great Pastures Beyond, my good wishes will fol¬ 
low him.” 

And then she took a flying leap that landed her about half-way 
up the center aisle and was soon back in her seat with the Colonel’s 
arm proudly around her. The audience yelled itself hoarse and 
tried in every way to entice her back again, but it was no use; she’d 
given them enough and stood firm. That was another family trait 
of the Storms—they could be as firm as Gibraltar when it was nec¬ 
essary. As all Southern people at that time (and largely so yet) were 
very fond of horses, the girl couldn’t have made a more appropriate 
speech; and considering it was all impromptu, it was remarkable and 
showed her rare caliber. 

The next day was Friday and the last day of the fair, but as 
Mrs. Stone had considerable shopping to do, they didn’t attend the 
fair, but did their shopping and then about noon started for home, 
but stayed over night with a second cousin of the Colonel’s, and 
then resumed their journey Saturday and arrived home Saturday 
evening. The family had never had so much fun and such a good 
time in all their lives, and they all vowed to go again next year; but 
“the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft aglee.” 

Chapter XV, 

KELDORA GOES TO COLLEGE. 

About a year after the Springfield fair and when Keldora was 
nearly fifteen,it was decided by the Storm family to take the young¬ 
ster to Nashville and place her in a select and exclusive school for 
girls. Keldora was not a bit enthusiastic about the plan, for it 
meant restraint and discipline, and these were two words not in 
good standing in the young lady’s vocabulary; however, her par¬ 
ents finally prevailed upon her to go and finish her education as 
became a young lady who wanted to be the proper thing and not 
have to be handicapped in later life by a lack of education. The 
Colonel had taught her to play the fiddle and her mother taught 
her the piano and some voice culture, but these were pleasures— 
mere nothings, because she could be at home and do about as she 
pleased. The girl learned everything as by magic and soon be¬ 
come proficient. She soon astonished her parents and the nabor- 
hood by the easy and natural way she could make her dad’s old 


58 


RED KLOVER. 


fiddle talk, paw the air or cry and weep. And the piano came just 
as easy, and her rich and pure voice was a wonder, for she sang a 
clear and strong soprano, a mezzo or an alto, and could sing a good 
baritone. Another talent she possessed in a high degree was her 
ability to mimic voices and sounds. There wasn’t a bird nor ani¬ 
mal in the country she couldn’t fool by correctly imitating its voice 
and talk; and the way she could mimic a person’s walk and man¬ 
ners was a caution; and whistle—that girl was a fife and calliope 
and whippoorwill combined—and then some. Her sense of humor 
was very strong, and she \yas a natural athlete and walked with a 
springy, lithe movement that resembled the graceful and well-poised 
movements of the tigers, panthers and other F elides. And dancing 
came as natural to her as music and eating does to a negro. And 
yet she was kind-hearted and generous and ever ready to lend a 
helping hand to those in distress. She had regular features, with 
the most wonderful hair and eyes, and a mouth that made you 
surrender at once. Her hair was a rare and weird shade of dark 
golden-brown and trimmed with every shade of the autumn leaves— 
a nest for the twilight and fairies to pow-wow and dream in; and 
the soft and whispering moonlight just wouldn’t build its nest any 
other place than in Keldora’s hair Her eyes were volcanic Dream- 
Stars —great tawny diamonds, with a soft lavender haze smoldering 
in their bottomless depths, and that reminded one of full-blown 
pansies swaying and singing in the Southwind. There was a strange 
and indefinable Something loitering in her eyes which immediately 
got hold of your soul and shook hands with it. There was no get¬ 
ting away from those eyes when they once got hold of you. It 
was “unconditional surrender,” and you were willing to be a cap¬ 
tive. Her hands were small and delicate and exceedingly white, 
shapely and aristocratic; and her feet were along the same high¬ 
bred lines. She immediately attracted attention wherever she 
went, and yet she was the most delightful little Democrat and hon 
vivant in all the world. Nothing stuck-up nor artificial about Kel- 
dora. According to her parentage and environment, she should have 
been haughty and domineering, but she was decidedly socialistic in 
her ideas and ideals. Where she got all these strange traits and 
ideas was a puzzle to her parents and friends, for both her parents 
were typical Southern Democrats of the Old Bourbon School, and 
very much inclined to be exclusive and aristocratic. The mother 
was particularly so, but the father was more inclined to broadness 
and liberality in matters social as well as in matters religious. Kel- 


59 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

dora was passionately fond of flowers and children, and never tired 
of caring for babies and playing with them. And a cat or dog that 
wouldn’t follow Keldora home was indeed a stoic and ascetic. 

In those days traveling was a slow and tedious task, for rail¬ 
roads in that part of the world were mostly non est> After consid¬ 
erable planning, it was decided to drive thru by team and buggy, 
as this would afford an opportunity to see the country and rest 
when they wanted to. They had at first planned on driving to Cape 
Girardeau and taking a boat there for Paducah, and then catching 
one of the small steamers that plied the Cumberland River be¬ 
tween Paducah and Nashville; but they figured it would be quicker 
to drive right thru. In those days people were not in such a hurry 
as they are to-day. 

The biggest fight came over Keldora’s desire to ride Prince 
Fleetfoot to Nashville and then keep him there “for company,” as 
she expressed it, and to ride about the city for exercise, etc. Mrs. 
Storm was decidedly against this proposal, for she knew how reck¬ 
less the girl was; but the Colonel allowed the child would have to 
have some diversion and something to remind her of home when 
she got homesick, and as it did not cost much to have a horse cared 
for in those days of ten-cent corn, he was for yielding this point 
and letting her have Prince. The Storms had plenty of money 
anyway, and the father did not consider the cost at all; and neither 
did the mother care about the cost—her great fear was that the 
child would come to grief thru her wild and reckless riding. As 
usual, Keldora carried the day, and it was decided to let her ride 
Prince and have him kept in Nashville subject to her call. 

About the middle of August they all set out for the Tennessee 
city of schools, religion, politics and booze. The weather wa's ideal 
and the trip was one to ever be preserved in Memory’s Old Fruit 
Jar. The Colonel and Mrs. Storm rode in the big and easy family 
carriage and Keldora galloped or sauntered along on her Prince 
Fleetfoot. On a few occasions she would get tired and climb in 
with the old folks and lead Prince behind. Mrs. Storm had care¬ 
fully packed the girl’s wardrobe and other little things to make her 
dOmfy, and these were all stored in the rear of the carriage. She 
even packed in a few jars of their famous Missouri peaches for her 
pet and darling. 

They traveled along at an easy pace and crossed the Missis¬ 
sippi at Cape Girardeau, and then down across Illinois’ narrow neck 
to the historic Ohio at Paducah. Here they rested from Friday even- 


6o 


RED KLOVER. 


ing to Monday morning, as the hotel accommodations were better 
in a town the size of Paducah. Then they followed along near the 
Cumberland River up to Nashville, where they arrived Thursday 
night. 

After a good night’s rest at the Maxwell House, the Colonel 
went out and soon found the schools for girls. The oldest one was 
a seminary and had a good reputation thruout the country for the 
thoroness of its work and the strictness of its discipline. The rig¬ 
orous discipline was what particularly appealed to Mrs. Storm, and 
she insisted on paying the institution a visit first and seeing what 
kind of a place it appeared to be; so the three of them set out 
shortly after io o’clock that morning and were soon ushered into 
the office of the institution and asked to be seated and their pres¬ 
ence would be announced to the Dean. 

“Gee! but I’ll bet this is a cemetery ,” shivered Keldora as she 
glanced about the place and saw only evidence of plainness and 
severity. Not even a flower or picture—not a blessed thing to in¬ 
dicate that human beings lived there. 

“Not cemetery , dear, but seminary,” carefully corrected Mrs. 
Storm, and before Keldora could shoot back, the door at the other 
side of the room quietly opened and a tall and angular woman of 
about fifty, and with a quiet and dignified air that bordered on hau- 
tiness, entered and made a stiff and slight obeisance, as tho her 
vertebrae had not been oiled lately and her soul (if she had any) 
had snow on its heather. 

“You wished to see the Dean?” she briefly inquired. 

“Yes,” said the Colonel. “I am Colonel Lexington Storm, of 
the Ozarks in southern Missouri, and this is Mrs. Storm, and our 
only dauter, Keldora Storm,” and he indicated them as he spoke. 
He made the introductions in a quiet and dignified way that at 
once seemed to cause a slight thaw in the Dean’s soul. Mrs. Storm 
and Keldora arose quietly and politely acknowledged the intro¬ 
ductions, and then resumed their seats. “We hear good reports of 
your institution,” easily went on the Colonel,“and we have brot our 
dauter to your academy to see what you can do for the child in the 
way of polishing a diamond in the ruff,” proudly stated the Colonefl. 

“Yes; that is our business, to finish young ladies and fit them 
for the highest positions in life, and we shall be pleased to receive 
Miss Storm and do our best for her. What is the child’s age and 
what schooling has she received?” 

“She is fifteen and has only had the advantage of our country 


. THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 61 

school and the little that Colonel Storm and I have been able to 
impart,” explained Mrs. Storm; “but while she is only a child in 
years, I think you will find her quite advanced in mind,” proudly 
stated the mother. 

“I’m glad of that, for most of our pupils are young ladies much 
older and they come to us just for the finishing touches and little 
mental and moral graces so necessary to a finished education,” ex¬ 
plained the Dean, with a touch of pride that was quite visible. 

The institution was shown to the Storms, and the dormitory 
and its living arrangements for the pupils, etc. The terms were 
soon arranged and it was decided to leave Keldora for two years— 
to be polished and finished . The Colonel paid the first half-year 
in advance and arranged to pay all her fees and bills semi-annually, 
and the Dean was to send him the bills every six months and also 
a report in regard to her progress, deportment, etc. 

Mrs. Storm explained that Keldora was good-hearted, but had 
been born and reared in a wild and savage country that civiliza¬ 
tion had scarcely touched yet, and hoped they would bear with 
her little temperamental idiosyncrasies and hoidenish ways and be 
as kind with the child as possible. “She can only be managed by 
kindness ,” explained the mother as she put her arms affectionately 
around the child’s shoulders and caressed her. 

“We seldom have any trouble with our wards, but our disci¬ 
pline is strict, tho reasonable, and all our pupils are expected to obey 
the rules and be studious and attentive,” concluded the Dean, with 
a tone of finality in her voice that would freeze ice cream in August. 

• The Colonel explained that Keldora had brot her pony with 
her and was to be allowed to take considerable riding exercise on 
Sundays and evenings; also she was to be permitted to attend the 
theater once a week if she so elected. 

“We think that a mistake, Colonel Storm; but if you insist on 
it, it shall be as you wish.” 

“Of course it’s not a mistake,” butted in Keldora for the first 
time, and the flash of pride and defiance in her wonderful eyes made 
the Dean sit up and blink a little. “After studying all day and 
all week, one needs a little recreation,” went on the child, “and if 
I couldn’t take a ride on Prince and run out into the country and 
see the birds and inhale the fragrance of the flowers every week, life 
would be a desert—a world without music and color!” And then 
she went over and leaned against her father’s breast and he put his 
strong arm around her and kissed her hair. 


62 


RED KLOVER. 


“Yes, our little Sunbeam is a wild flower and must not be con¬ 
fined and restricted too much/’ defended the Colonel. 

“But, Colonel Storm, the child will have to attend church 
twice every Sunday and Sunday-school once every Lord’s day, and 
that won’t leave much time for riding and mooning about the coun¬ 
try,” went on the Dean in a surprised and shocked tone of voice; 
“besides, who’s to chaperon her on these horseback excursions and 
theater-goings?” 

“Why, madam, I’m not an invalid nor a baby and I can take 
care of myself! I’m not a weak and sickly hot-house plant that’s 
always afraid of catching its death o’ cold. I was born and raised 
in the hazy hills of the far-away Ozarks and among the eternal rocks 
and where the wild bears and catamounts roam at will, and I’ve 
shot and killed many a one all by myself when out visiting the big 
silent trees and helping the little brooks and gurgling mountain 
streams with their chorus. A chaperon indeed! And as for going 
to church, I reserve the right to choose my own cathedral,” went on 
the little Storm in real old Missouri style. 

“Oh! then you’re a Catholic?” asked the Dean. 

“Not a bit of it, madam; my cathedral is the eternal hills and 
laffing brooks that sing their matins to the Great God of Day— 
the Eternal and Splendid Sun, and I like to wander off myself and 
help the little birds and flowers with their chorus,” explained KeL- 
dora, with a dramatic gesture and blazing eyes that boded a storm 
approaching. 

“Why,you little Pagan!” gasped the Dean, with a look of frozen 
horror on her iced features. 

“Call me what you like,” defied the girl, “but I’m a Storm, 
and from Missouri , and you can’t cram that sky-twaddle down my 
oesophagus and make me believe it’s religion /” and she shot the 
Dean a look that would have settled most anyone; and it did set¬ 
tle the Dean, too, for she hastened to remark: 

“ I’m afraid that instead of our finishing your daughter, Colonel, 
she’ll finish us,” and the Dean almost smiled at her little pun; “how¬ 
ever, if it is your wish that the child be excused from attendance at 
divine worship, we’ll respect your wishes, for we realize that every¬ 
one is free in this country to choose his own religion,” parried the 
Dean, for she realized that the Storms were people of prominence 
and means, and she wasn’t conducting the seminary for her health 
anyway ; so what difference did it make how the girl spent hef Sun¬ 
days, so long as she spent them in such a beautiful and exalted way? 


63 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

“ Weren’t the hills and rivers and the rocks and flowers ail God’s 
works anyway, and if the little Pagan preferred to worship in this 
primeval way, what difference did it make?” thought the Dean to 
herself after they were gone. 

“Yes,” spoke up Mrs. Storm warmly, “we have never taut 
Keldora anything like sectarian religion, but have thoroly ingrained 
into the child’s consciousness the necessity of being natural and hon¬ 
est and kind and fair with everyone, and to behave herself and not 
be selfish. Her wild and natural habitat and its picturesque envi¬ 
ronment have given the girl a temperamental leaning toward all 
that’s natural and beautiful and refined, and it is our desire that 
man’s artificial religions shall not b t forced upon her and thus mar 
her mind and poison her life. If there is anything in your religions 
that appeals to her reason and that will not shock her acute sense 
of justice and right, she will undoubtedly be a willing disciple of 
such a creed. But really, madam, have you such a creed?” 

“Well—er—that would lead to quite a theological discussion, 
madam, and I really do not feel at all capable of undertaking it 
this morning; so, as I stated, the girl shall be free to attend our 
worship or not just as she elects.” And the Dean arose as a signal 
to indicate that the interview was ended. 

The Grim Old Monster had met her Waterloo this time, and 
at the hands of a fifteen-year-old country girl from the wilds of 
Missouri. It was best that the matter had thus been brought up 
and settled,for it was not likely that any of the old fossils who posed 
as teachers would try to cross swords with the girl on the subject 
of religion or the theater. Keldora had achieved another victory— 
had won another race, as she facetiously termed the “scrap” after¬ 
ward when speaking of it to her parents. 

“Well, I should say that child is a senior mentally,” admitted 
the Dean to herself after the Storms had departed; “but she surely 
has the quality and the make-up for a leader—and such oratorical 
talent and such an easy and graceful manner—like one born to the 
throne—a wiid and uncrowned queen. She is something decidedly 
new and will be a big favorite with the girls. I do hope that con¬ 
ceited young Baptist minister that spoke at chapel a few mornings 
ago will meet her and try sime of his infallible learning on her. It 
would be a real treat to see her take the afflatus out of his sails,” 
and the Dean even smiled unto herself at her own musings. The 
whole world loves a victor, and the Dean was no exception, and she 
freely admitted to herself that the little Missouri Storm was a Mas - 


64 


RED KLOVER. 


ter —a cyclone, in fact; and she secretly liked the*girl and decided 
on a conciliatory course with her. She was aware that the child 
was a thorobred and had to be treated as such. 

As the Storms were in no particular hurry to return home, 
they lingered in the city a week and visited with a couple of distant 
relatives of the Colonel’s. Then they tearfully and affectionately 
bade their little Sunbeam good-bye and started on the homeward 
journey. The first day out they were too sad to enjoy the wild 
and beautiful country, but after that they enjoyed the trip fully 
and reached home in ten days; but it did not seem like home now— 
the light and life of their home had gone out, and all was in gloom 
and darkness; however, they decided to bear up under the tem¬ 
porary cloud and be as cheerful as possible. 

“We still have each other, dear sweetheart,” said the Colonel 
to his wife, “and we will have to love one another all the more now 
that our little treasure is gone,” and he gathered Veldena up in 
his strong arms and gave her such a hugging and kissing as she 
had not had in many a day; and she fully returned his caresses and 
sat on his lap that evening and played the guitar in the moonlight, 
and they both sang with the distant whippoorwills—as in the dear 
old days of the long ago. When Keldora was at home, she so com¬ 
pletely crept in thru their lives they really had little time to love 
one another; but now they could and would have another honey¬ 
moon; so on Sundays they took their lunch and fiddle and guitar 
with them and attended Divine Services together far away in the 
woods and hills, where the mossy brooks and tangled vines sang 
alto with the birds and insects. They were both good musicians 
and sang beautifully together, and these were golden days set in 
tangled vines and autumn leaves that would come back on Memo¬ 
ry’s spangled wings and sing alto in their dreams in the mystic and 
hazy days to come. It was “Veldena” and “Lex” again, and seemed 
like turning the clock back fifteen years. They wrote Keldora a 
long and loving letter every week, and received one from her—and 
sometimes two; and oh, what letters they were—rare masterpieces! 

Keldora was dreadfully lonesome at first, but she had a lovely 
little girl for a room-mate, and they were so congenial and at once 
became pals and chums. Everyone liked Keldora from the start, 
and she soon became the favorite of the “Sem.,” as they abbrevi¬ 
ated it. Her room-mate was from Arkansas and also had a rather 
odd name—Zenda Woodbine; and she was also pretty and played 
and sang quite well. She had brot her violin and banjo with her, 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


65 


and Keldora had her fine old Stradivarius with her, and the girls 
sure did have plenty of music. They both played the piano, and 
Zenda sang a beautiful alto and also a deep and rich contralto. 
When the girls learned Keldora’s unusual name, they dubbed her 
“The Missouri Storm” and they soon discovered that she could 
storm when the occasion needed bad weather. 

Chapter XVI. 

KELDORA MAKES A HIT. 

Autumn is one of Nature’s gala seasons in the Southland, and 
when the autumn leaves are gradually turning to brown and gold 
and the emerald grass is saying au revoir to the insects, it is time 
for the poet and dreamer to use the Southwind for a Pegasus and 
outride the horizon. The woods and eternal hills are softly singing 
to the Harvest Moon, and the lazy birds are dozing and dreaming in 
the tinted trees in sweet contentment. The cows and sheep idly 
roam thru the forests and fields in search of the last blades of green 
grass, and the old crows caw peacefully from tree to tree and tease 
the busy squirrels as the latter are filling their larders for the cold 
and wintry days to come. And anon the bobwhite and his day¬ 
dreaming cousin, the mystic whippoorwill, try their welcome voices 
on the soft and hazy air. It is the time to dream and wander—to 
play with the tangled vines and failing flowers—to gather the ripen¬ 
ing nuts and tart wild grapes and try to locate the fox’s tentative 
bark from across the deep ravine. Nature never intended her creat¬ 
ures to remain cooped up in damp and musty old stone and brick 
buildings at this time of the year, when all Nature was sending out 
soft-tinted invitations to come and celebrate the feasts of Bacchus 
and the Sun. 

It was such an easy matter for Keldora to get her lessons and 
keep ahead of the classes that she had plenty of spare time; so she 
and Prince Fleetfoot were soon a familiar sight about Nashville and 
its environs. After two weeks together, the two girls had become 
well acquainted with each other, and as their tastes and ideas were 
so similar, their friendship exceeded that of Damon and Pythias. 
Zenda was also a lover of Nature and fine horses, but she had no 
such wonderful creature as Prince Fleetfoot. However, when Kel¬ 
dora acquainted the proprietor of the livery stable with the fact 
that her chum needed a good riding-horse that had temperament 
and was classy, that individual, who was an old Kentuckian and 
race-track fan, soon found “ just what the young lady wanted.” He 


66 


RED KLOVER. 


courteously placed the animal at Zenda’s disposal, and the next 
Sunday the two youngsters set out for a gallop thru the hills and 
about the countryside. Zenda’s mount was a high-strung and 16- 
cylindered young mare that certainly had plenty of mettle and what 
Keldora termed “temperament,” and she could surely go some. As 
soon as the two animals were brot together, they looked each 
other over critically and then gazed into each other’s eyes for a few 
minutes, and then Prince reached over and gallantly rubbed his 
aristocratic and disdainful nose against Wingie’s nose and began to 
coo in a soft and friendly way. The little mare seemed perfectly 
willing to become acquainted with Prince, so she rubbed her dainty 
and delicate little nose against his snoot and gave a few assenting 
whinnies, and then they were pals and tillicums. The attachment 
of these two thorobred animals for one another was strange and 
beautiful and greatly pleased the girls. They took a banjo and a 
guitar with them in case they needed music, and after riding around 
thru the woods and enjoying the soul-enticing beauties of Nature 
in all her multicolored glory, they dismounted and climbed up in 
the top of a patriarchal old walnut tree and began to play and 
sing to the birds and squirrels and other denizens of the woodland; 
and few animals there be that do not like music. The way Keldora 
and Zenda could play those instruments and sing in a soft, tawny 
tone that harmonized perfectly with their autumnal environment! 

They soon had an audience other than the little denizens of 
the forest, for a half-dozen members of a strolling opera company 
were Sundaying in Nashville, and would open a three-nights en¬ 
gagement at the opera-house the coming week. There were three 
gentlemen and three ladies in the party, who were doing the woods 
and renewing their acquaintance with their great All-Mother, 
Mrs. Nature. They discovered the horses quietly eating grass near 
the big tree, and at once fell to admiring and caressing the splendid 
animals, as theatrical people are prone to do. If there’s anything 
that theatrical people like better than a dog or a cold bottle, it’s 
a fine horse or a baby. But what puzzled the singers was the fact 
that no riders were visible, altho the animals were saddled and bri¬ 
dled and seemed in no hurry to leave, but contentedly cropped the 
rich green grass and every now and then would rub their noses to¬ 
gether in the most friendly and affectionate manner. 

“I wonder how these fine animals come to be out here alone 
and with saddles and bridles on?” mused Signor Voltello, the great 
Italian tenor. 


67 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

“Search me,” carelessly returned Mile. Vallens De Senne, the 
contralto; “but I sure would just love to own this splendid little 
pony/’ and she caressingly placed her pretty white arm around 
Prince’s graceful and hauty neck and began to coo and talk baby 
talk to him, and when he rubbed his soft nose against her cheek 
and slyly winked at her, her enthusiasm knew no bounds. 

Keldora and Zenda were safely out of sight of the intruders, 
but could plainly discern them from their leafy concealment. Kel¬ 
dora felt a little twinge of jealousy streak thru her nerves at the 
sight of another caressing her beloved Prince, but, as Prince was 
something of a beau, he enjoyed it, tho without any feeling of dis¬ 
loyalty to his little mistress. From a few remarks the girls over¬ 
heard they guessed who the visitors were, and began to play and 
sing the Prison Song in “II Trovatore,” and rendered it in such a 
classic manner that the troupe were astounded and delighted. The 
girls, when down town the previous day, had got hold of a program 
of the coming musical attraction, and in their room that evening 
they played every number on the program easily; so, just to puzzle 
the troupe, they played every number on their program, and soon 
the entire company of six chipped in and helped the girls sing the 
songs; and the easy manner in which Keldora and Zenda could 
change from one part to another was a surprise to the troupe. They 
thot it was some other operatic stars who were passing thru the 
city and were playing a joke on them; and when they called up to 
the girls and begged them to comedown and introduce themselves, 
Keldora replied in French and Zenda answered in good Italian, and 
when the members of the company replied in those languages, the 
girls came back in German and Spanish. Then the girls, in a spirit 
of pure mischief, proceeded to serenade them with several of the 
popular old songs of the Southland and wound up with the immortal 
“Dixie.” The troupe did encore them and enjoyed the serenade 
highly; then they begged the girls to come down and show them¬ 
selves. 

“We will come down if you all will go over there behind that 
clump of trees and stay there and not peep around the sides at us 
while we are coming down,” returned Keldora. 

“ Out , Mademoiselle ,” agreed Pierre Millet, the baritone; “St, 
Senorita ,” agreed another male member; “Ja, Frdulein ,” returned 
Signor Voltello, who spoke German fluently. Then they all retired 
behind the clump of trees and waited breathlessly. 

. “All right; now you may appear and apologize for attending 


68 


RED KLOVER. 


our little rehearsal without an invitation” saucily said Keldora, with 
a smile in her voice that belied her dignified declaration. 

“Ah! we beg ze mademoiselles’ pardons for being ze intrud¬ 
ers,” softly apologized the Signor in broken French that was rich 
and humorous. 

“But we were out strolling in the woods and enjoying the beau¬ 
ties of Nature when we discovered your fine horses,” put in Mme. 
De Senne. 

“And we never dreamed of being so near two of Nature’s great¬ 
est nightingales,” complimented the soprano, with a mock smile 
that was too polite to be detected. 

“And may we not have the pleasure of knowing your names 
and who and what you are?” courteously pleaded Mile. De Senne. 

“To be sure, ladies and gentlemen,” returned Keldora, with an 
easy and graceful bow like the poise of a panther; “my friend and 
chum is Miss Zenda Woodbine, from Arkansas, and I am Miss Kel¬ 
dora Storm, of the Ozarks in southern Missouri. We are students 
in a girls’ seminary here and are trying to put the finishing touches 
on our educations,” explained Keldora in an easy and suave manner, 
as tho she were a queen and used to all sorts of high-brow ceremonies. 

“And incidentally to make those pious old owls up there earn 
their salaries,” chipped in Zenda, with a merry twinkle in her great 
wild-fawn eyes, with their deep pansy pupils that sparkled and 
twinkled like zigzag moonlight on the Orinoco River in Septober. 

The troupe all had a hearty laugh at this sally of wit, and voted 
the girls stars of the first magnitude, and asked them what their 
ambitions were. They had no particular plans for the future ex¬ 
cept to get all the education they could and enjoy life. The troupe 
expressed their delight at meeting the girls and they all had a de¬ 
lightful little visit together, and then the actors gave the girls com¬ 
plimentary tickets to all their performances and thanked them for 
the rare serenade, and hoped to have the pleasure of meeting them 
again. 

Then Keldora and Zenda mounted their horses and happily 
sauntered away thru the sylvan woods farther to the south, and 
just as the sun was setting in the occidental clouds they turned 
their horses’ heads toward home and for about a mile pulled off a 
real horse-race to see which was the faster—Prince or Wingie. It 
was nip and tuck all the way, but Keldora always declared that 
Prince was too gallant to outrun his little pal and sweetheart, and 
it did seem that way, too. Yes, Prince and Wingie became sweet- 


69 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

hearts as well as pals, and were restless and unhappy when apart, 
but would smile and rub their noses together whenever they were 
brot in proximity to one another. Keldora declared that horses 
and other animals could love and be sweethearts as well as humans 
could, and she was a connoisseur of everything pertaining to horses; 
and Zenda was of the same opinion. 

The girls told the liveryman that the little mare was a darling, 
and asked if she was for sale. 

“Well, yes; I w T ould sell her to you girls, for I know you would 
never abuse her, 5 ' returned the man after some hesitation, and then 
he wiped away an intruding tear and looked embarrassed. “The 
fact is, I bought the mare when a colt and raised her up and trained 
her for my only dauter, and since Lennie died I’ve never had the 
heart to part with her, for she is such a spoiled little pet and is so 
used to having her own way,” went on the ruff old man, and the 
tears just would not be restrained. 

“Oh, we’re so sorry!” exclaimed both girls at the same time. 

“It is so hard to lose the ones you love,” said Keldora, with all 
her heart and sympathy in her wonderful voice, and at the same 
time wiped away his tears with her kel—handkerchief. This sim¬ 
ple act of kindness touched the old man’s heart and caused the 
flowers to bloom again in his soul, 

“She’s a fine nag and has the best of stock in her, and you 
may have her for seventy-five dollars, tho she is really worth much 
more,” declared the old man. 

“All right; I’ll take her at that figure, but I haven’t all the 
money at present,” admitted Zenda; “but I can save some out of 
my expense money and in that way I can soon pay for her.” 

“And I’ll help you to pay for her, dear,” chipped in Keldora, 
like a real little sport. 

“I can pay you thirty-five dollars now,” said Zenda. 

“And I can spare twenty-five dollars,” said Keldora. 

“So that will only leave fifteen dollars due on the nag,” counted 
up the girls. 

“That’s all right, children; but don’t rob yourselves too close, 
for I am in no particular need of the money just now,” assured the 
kind-hearted old man. 

So the deal was closed and Zenda was the happiest girl in Ten¬ 
nessee, for now she could ride with Keldora when she liked, and on 
her own “haws,” too. She had a big cargo of the old Southern 


70 


RED KLOVER. 


pride, just as Keldora had, and she liked to own her mount. And 
they arranged with the liveryman to keep Prince and Wingie in the 
same big stall, so they could talk and love each other to their 
hearts’ content. 

That was a banner day all around—the strange meeting with 
the “show” people and the serenade and little chat and the theater 
tickets; and then the purchase of the dear little mare for Zenda 
and the providing of Prince with a sweetheart. Events were crowd¬ 
ing into her life rapidly. 

“I wonder what will be our next adventure?” asked Keldora 
of Zenda when they got back to their quarters and had reviewed 
the day’s victories. 

“I hope it will be something full of pep and beautiful,” ex¬ 
claimed the Arkansaw Traveler with fervor, “for I like the unusual 
things best. But won’t the old Dean be furious when she learns of 
our escapade to-day?” went on Zenda in a reminiscent tone. 

“But how will she ever learn of our strange escapade?” asked 
Keldora in an amused tone of voice. “Besides, there was no harm 
in it anyway, and those people were just as nice as the Dean or any¬ 
body I ever met,” argued Keldora, more to herself than to Zenda. 

“Oh! she’ll find it out in some way—don’t you ever fear that 
she won’t. £ The Devil is always good to his own,’” quoted Zenda. 

And sure enuff, on the following day the evening paper had a 
vivid and lurid account of the whole affair, with many artistic trim¬ 
mings that were gratuitous and supplemental. When the Dean 
and Faculty read it, there were visible signs of a storm for those 
two girls; but as Keldora was a Storm herself, she didn’t mind little 
squalls. Zenda had never had anything but good marks from her 
instructors, and now it looked as tho her deportment were doomed 
to have a brunet mark stamped on it. Keldora quieted her fears, 
and told her to sit tight, and if the Dean tried to rock the boat, she 
would cloud up and storm all over her; besides, they both had 
excellent mounts now, and if they were expelled, they could ride 
home together, and as Zenda had promised to go home with Kel¬ 
dora and make a long visit, they would all go up to the Spring- 
field Fair again some time and have a real live time. 

After chapel exercises Tuesday morning, the Dean quietly in¬ 
vited both girls to wait in her office, as she wanted to see them pri¬ 
vately. “The squall is coming I guess,” admitted Keldora, with a 
shrug. The Dean came in quietly and with a frigid look on her 
face handed the paper to Keldora and asked her to read it aloud, 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 71 

so her friend might have a chance to hear it. Keldora read it with 
a great deal of gusto and elocutionary effect, and then both girls 
laffed heartily at it and asked the Dean what she thot of it. 

“It is scandalous!” thundered the head of the “Sem.,” “and 
such conduct on the part of our pupils will ruin the Institution,” 
went on the Dean in a Klondyke tone of voice. “To think of a 
couple of well-reared young ladies meeting such awful things as 
actors away out in the woods unattended!” w r ent on the iced voice 
in a frozen manner. 

“Madam,” icily returned Keldora as she arose and walked up 
in front of her accuser and traducer, “your statement of the case 
is neither fair nor truthful and is very unbecoming a great teacher 
and professed follower of the meek and lowly Nazarene, who taut 
forgiveness and who said, ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,’” quoted 
Keldora, with a mischievous twinkle in her beautiful starry eyes. 
“Besides, the paper has greatly exaggerated the whole affair and 
made many misstatements. The meeting was wholly accidental, 
and there were three ladies in the party, one of whom was a married 
woman, and her young dauter was with them. We had no way 
of knowing that we would be discovered when we rode away into 
the woods and ascended that giant tree and started to serenade 
our little feral friends, the birds; and anyway it is no crime to meet 
your own species accidentally, and those actors and actresses were 
the nicest and politest people I ever met, and they evidently never 
‘finished’ in this Institution!” And the girl’s eyes were now glow¬ 
ing like twin volcanoes that were eating fixed stars for dessert. 

“Miss Storm! how dare you to make such an insinuating re¬ 
mark about our sacred Institution?” 

“Yes, I guess it is sacred, but not to the truth,” flashed Keldora 
right back at the Dean, who was purpling with a choking rage. 

“Go to your rooms at once, and I’ll see that the paper makes 
a correction,” ordered the baffled woman, for she was no match for 
Keldora when it came to slinging the English language. 

“And you had better be careful what you say about those act¬ 
ors, or you will have a libel suit on your hands,” fired Keldora as 
a parting shot and just for good measure. 

“I have a legal adviser, Miss Storm,” and the Dean went out 
the other door with her pride at half-mast. 

When the Dean learned that both girls were preparing fo at¬ 
tend the opera, she put her foot down on it and there were sand- 
burs between every toe; in fact, she positively forbade it. “For 


72 


RED KLOVER. 


your attendance at their performances now, after the scandalous 
article, which they no doubt inspired, wo^ld be an acknowledgment 
that our Institution indorses them and their wicked shows of in¬ 
decency and depravity,” stormed the irate Dean. 

“You don’t know that they had anything to do with the news¬ 
paper story, and neither do you know aught against their charac¬ 
ters; besides, the cream and elite of the city will be there in all their 
glory; and not to attend after their kindness and courtesy in ex¬ 
tending us tickets and our promise to attend would be a serious 
breach of etiquet and honor, and I am sure you do not want them 
to carry the impression away with them that etiquet and honor are 
not on the curriculum of this Institution,” sarcastically and face¬ 
tiously returned Keldora. “Besides, my parents always taut me to 
be polite and never break my word after once given. That is a 
family trait of all our people on both sides.” 

“And I agree with you, dear,” quietly asserted Zenda, with a 
flash of defiance in both eyes. “And if you will lay aside your in¬ 
herited prejudices and come with Keldora and me, we will gladly 
pay for your ticket,” continued the little Arkansas flower, address¬ 
ing the Dean, with a tone of finality in her voice. 

“No, thank you, Miss Woodbine; I could not so far forget my 
dignity and Christian training as to attend a theater,” declined the 
Dean, with a stiff bow and a frigid sneer. 

“So is an owl and a fence-post long on dignity , but fortunately 
they never had any Christian training or ’ finishing^ in a seminary,” 
handed out Keldora as a sort of finishing upper-cut that tossed the 
Old Lady over on Quiet Avenue. 

The girls dolled themselves up in their prettiest rags and, armed 
with a pair of gold-mounted opera-glasses and a pair of bright and 
winning smiles, hiked out for the theater. They'were a little early, 
and found Signor Voltello near the door and evidently waiting for 
them. 

“ Ah! buenas tardes , Ssnoritas ,” greeted the Signor in perfect 
Spanish. 

“Good evening, Signor Voltello. Are we ahead of time?” sa¬ 
luted the girls. 

“Just in time, Signorinas; and I have reserved a lower box for 
you. as a slight token of cur appreciation of the leafy serenade you 
so kindly accorded us last Sunday,” returned the Signor; and they 
all laffed heartily at this little pleasantry. 

Signor Voltello then escorted them to their box and asked per- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


73 


mission to introduce other members of the opera company to them. 

“We should be delighted to meet’your people,” courteously as¬ 
sented both girls in the same sentence. 

The Signor then excused himself and left them; presently he re¬ 
turned with three other members and duly presented them. The 
leading man, Senor Dalles Santos, expressed a desire to hear them 
play and sing, and after a little parley, the girls consented to meet 
the company in the parlors of the Maxwell House and sing for them. 
Then four more members came in and were duly presented to the 
girls. They were holding quite a levee, and many glasses were 
leveled at them from all parts of the pit and the other boxes. The 
compliments and flattering attentions the girls were receiving from 
the opera company were very sweet to their young and inexperi¬ 
enced minds, and their faces were radiant with joy, when lo and 
behold—the Dean and another of the instructors were sitting down 
in the pit about midway, and with a look of frozen horror on their 
pallid and icy faces! They had arrived just in time to witness the 
little levee in the girls’ box, and were horrified at the notoriety they 
were achieving, and in dreadful fear that it might put a stain on 
the Institution! That Institution surely was something sacred , but 
the Dean could never prove it by Keldora and Zenda. 

When the curtain went down on the first act, the manager of 
the theater came in the box and informed the girls that the Gov¬ 
ernor and his wife and dauter and two other wealthy and promi¬ 
nent ladies wished to see Miss Storm and Miss Woodbine. 

“We shall be pleased to meet our chief executive and his family 
and the other ladies who seek our acquaintance,” sweetly assented 
Keldora, with just a proper touch of that womanly dignity which 
is pleasing without being repelling. 

The manager ushered the Governor and his wife and dauter 
in and introduced them, and then presented the other ladies. The 
girls received their distinguished visitors with such well-bred digni¬ 
ty and gentle breeding that they at once carried the day, and they 
received invitations to dine at the executive mansion and at the 
homes of the other women. When the Dean and her ice-faced pal 
witnessed this remarkable social triumph and victory, their faces 
bloomed like morning glories burgeoning in the sun after an early 
morning rain. And oh, boy! the glad dope the papers handed out 
to our young sheroes and the big front-page story about their social 
triumph at the Governor’s reception! From that on they were the 


74 


RED KLOVER. 


iTest kind of Itttttttttsssssssss!!!!!!!! and the poor old icy-faced 
Dean couldn’t do enuff for them nor be nice enuff. 

On the next afternoon Keldora and Zenda met the entire opera 
company at the Maxwell House, and played and sang for them. 
The company were delighted and applauded them to the limit. 
They had never met such unusual talent in such young girls, and 
they predicted all sorts of good things for their future. They in¬ 
vited the girls to dine with them that evening, and it was a swell 
little dinner that would always be a green spot in their memories. 
The next afternoon the girls and eight members of the company 
went out for a ride in the woods and around Nashville. They were 
all well mounted, and on the return trip the Signor challenged Kel¬ 
dora for a race, and she promptly accepted, and three members of 
the company acted as starters and the other five and Zenda were 
the judges. 

The Signor had a fine mount—a tall and rangy animal that 
was nervous and full of pep and that had a chassis along the lines of 
a greyhound, a jackrabbit and a streak of lightning, and most any¬ 
one would have picked him for a winner. The singer felt sure that 
he could put one over on the little Missourian and get a laff at 
her expense, but he didn’t know the Ozark product very well. 

One of the singers stood between the animals and held them 
by the bridles, and at the word “Go!” the horses both sprang for¬ 
ward with a leap and began to devour the mile of space with all- 
fours. For the first half-mile the Signor had quite the best of it, 
and then Keldora said some Mysterious Words to Prince and that 
seemed to wing his feet, for he let himself out and won the race by 
more than ioo feet. 

“Fine! Splendid!” exclaimed the judges, and then they be¬ 
gan to josh the Signor and pet Prince and flatter Keldora for her 
equestrianship. 

After letting the animals cool off a bit, they all rode back to 
the city and the girls returned to the “Sem.,” but not to study— 
oh, no! The other students had to know all about it, and Keldora 
and Zenda were perfectly willing to tell them. They never tired 
of listening to Keldora, for she was such a mimic and elocutionist 
it was a pleasure to listen to her narratives. The girl had dra¬ 
matic talent to a high degree, but no ambition to go on the stage. 

That night they occupied the same box again and were the 
targets for all eyes, and received many floral bouquets and requests 
for introductions. After the first act, the audience rose en masse 



75 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

and demanded that “Miss Storm” sing for them while they were 
waiting for the next act, and they simply would not be denied, 
either. The Signor and the manager of the house and Madame De 
Senne all came into their box and begged the girl to sing for the 
audience, for such cordial applause was a compliment that could 
not be ignored. 

“All right; I’ll sing them one of my own little songs that I 
composed out in the Ozarks,” finally said Keldora; and then, to 
the utter astonishment of the audience and everyone else, she made 
a little run and a big jump that landed her away out on the stage. 
This remarkable and panther-like leap was done so gracefully and 
easily that it brot out tremendous applause. Keldora stepped to 
the wings and asked for a banjo, which was handed to her, and then 
she tripped out on the stage and signaled the orchestra to be silent; 
then she played a little prelude and began her song: 

“O pretty birds, come sing with me, 

Come down from your leafy trees; 

Just help me with my songs and we 
Will enrich the summer breeze.” 

There were three more stanzas to this pretty little elfin song, 
and she sang and acted it with such feeling and pathos the audi¬ 
ence went wild and cheered and applauded until she came back and 
played a solo that charmed them into a perfect storm of applause— 
and it was one of her own compositions, too. The Governor rose 
in his box and personally thanked Keldora for the audience and 
paid her a beautiful compliment, and also lauded the Ozarks that 
produced such talent. Then he asked her where the song might be 
procured, and she informed him that it was just one of her own 
little songs she composed while out in the woods and hills one 
afternoon, and that it had never been published. Then when the 
audience realized that she was also a composer, they resumed the 
applause, and all those who had flowers with them threw them into 
her box. After the next act, the Signor and several members of the 
company came to the box and begged Keldora to set her songs to 
music and have them published,“so the whole world may have the 
pleasure of singing and playing them, Mademoiselle.” She prom¬ 
ised that she would see about it when she had the time. 

Many prominent ladies and gentlemen in the audience sought 
introductions to the girls, but they begged to be excused that night. 
When the performance was over, the entire audience sought their 


76 


RED KLOVER. 


box and insisted on shaking hands with them and complimenting 
Keldora and Zenda; so the girls held quite a levee again and re¬ 
ceived many invitations to dine with prominent people; but they 
declared that they were there to finish their educations, and that 
they were too young to enter society. 

The next day the Governor and his wife called at the “Sem.” 
and asked the girls to go driving with them Saturday afternoon and 
meet some of their friends. Keldora was on the point of politely 
declining, but the Dean smilingly urged them to accept the invita¬ 
tions, as “the Governor and his family are not subject to the rules 
of the Institution.” That setled it, and the girls accepted and en¬ 
joyed a fine ride in the Governor’s magnificent equipage, with liv¬ 
eried servants to wait on them. 

“Miss Storm,” ardently began the Governor, who was a true 
Southerner and a judge of horse-flesh, “that off nag there can go 
some and I’m going to enter her at the fair this fall, and I’ll see 
that you all get to attend,” courteously and warmly said the Gov¬ 
ernor, with a touch of justifiable pride. 

“I’ll bet my Prince can outrun her,” roguishly exclaimed Kel¬ 
dora, with a mischievous smile at the chief executive. 

“I accept your challenge, Miss Storm, and my nephew shall 
ride the mare. He is a son of my only sister and is sixteen, but 
rather small for his age; in fact, just the right size for a jockey.” 

Then they all laffed at the idea of the Governor and Keldora 
running a horse-race. 

“Why, my dear, it would never do for you to do such a boyish 
thing as to run a horse-race with a school-girl!” exclaimed his wife. 

“But she challenged papa,” put in the Governor’s dauter, 
“and you know that he could never look his friends in the face 
again if he took a dare from a school-girl,” and then they all laffed 
again. “And the papers and the politicians would never get thru 
rubbing it in on papa if he backed down,” continued the dauter. 

“Why, mother, I’d simply have to resign and move to Ar- 
kansaw if I let a Missourian put me to shame like that. ’ ’ ‘ ‘No sir-ee, 

the thing is settled—that race shall be run, Miss Storm, if T have 
to ride it myself.” And the Governor gave his wife a look that ad¬ 
journed the discussion sine die. 

The Governor had recently imported the mare from a famous 
Kentucky stable near Lexington, and the animal had a genealogy 
that would put the oldest Knickerbocker family on Staten Island 
in the shades of the parvenus. The news soon leaked out and the 


77 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

papers played it up with four-inch type and featured it in their 
Sunday editions. The great State Fair and Southern Exposition 
was only ten days off, and this race was the talk of the town and 
surrounding country; even the Louisville and Memphis and At¬ 
lanta and New Orleans papers got the story and featured it; and 
the betting was lively, but after the sports and race-track fans had 
seen the Governor’s mare and learned of her pedigree, the betting 
turned in favor of the Governor; but Keldora had made such tre¬ 
mendous hits and so many friends that many of the younger and 
more chivalrous ones were perfectly willing to lose money on her 
horse rather than bet against their sweet-singer guest. 

Chapter XVII. 

THE BIG FAIR AND SENSATIONAL HORSE-RACE. 

The time for the big fair finally rolled around, the last week 
in October, and the weather was ideal; in fact, all Nature as well 
as Tennessee and Kentucky seemed bent on attending and provid¬ 
ing the proper conditions, for the news had spread everywhere, and 
such a crowd Old Nashville had never seen before. This fair in 
those days was always the biggest event in the Southland except 
the Louisville races and the New Orleans Mardi-Gras, and this, time 
it was destined to put those record-breakers over in the tin-horn 
class. Thursday was Nashville Day and also Tennessee Day, and 
the city was a wilderness of flags, bunting, banners and flowers— 
a gala day indeed, and one to ever be remembered, for it was the 
only case on record where a governor of one of our great sovereign 
States, and a mere slip of a Missouri school-girl ran a horse-race. 
Several packets ran special excursions from St. Louis, Cairo and 
Paducah, in order that the people might enjoy the unusual spectacle 
of a governor and a schoci-girl running a horse-race The Dean 
and all the instructors attended en masse , and on that day the 
schools were all dismissed, so the pupils might attend and enjov 
the festivities. 

The Dean engaged seats for her teachers and the whole class 
(84) in one section of the grand-stand, so the teachers could act as 
chaperons for the girls in their care. Three of the girls remained 
with Keldora and Zenda and to help Keldora get ready and get 
Prince in trim. Keldora and Zenda had been out in the country 
almost every day the past week in order to exercise Prince and get 
him in condition, for Keldora had just determined to win that race 
or go home in disgrace; and the Governor just had to win it or ever 


78 


RED KLOVER. 


after be the butt of all the joke-smiths as well as his political ene¬ 
mies. “There can’t be no such thing as losing this race,” admit¬ 
ted the Governor to himself. His wife still berated him for accept¬ 
ing a child’s innocent challenge, and tried to make him see that his 
position forbade such an exhibition of himself, but the Governor was 
a true sport and stuck to his colors. 

This race was put at the end of the program, and everyone 
was on the qui vice and keyed up to high C—and then a few octaves 
higher. 

The Governor at once put his mare in the hands of expert train¬ 
ers, and she was a beauty and in fine trim, while poor little Prince 
Fleetfoot looked rather pudgy and more like a Brownie or a joke. 

When Keldora and Zenda came riding up on their mounts and 
announced that Keldora was ready, the Governor and judges asked: 

“Miss Storm, who is going to ride for you?” 

“Why, I’m going to attend to that little affair myself,” sau¬ 
cily and pleasantly returned Keldora; and then she deliberately 
turned to the Governor and naively remarked: “Excuse me, Gov¬ 
ernor, but we have not yet laid any bets on our horses, and a horse- 
raec withont a little coin wagered on it would be contrary to all 
traditions and rather a colorless affair, eh?” and she turned the full 
glory of her splendid Ozark eyes full on her antagonist and looked 
him steadily in the eye in a dare-devil manner that would have 
made any raee-track gambler turn green with envy. 

“Thatt’s so,” rather sheepishly admitted the Governor, for he 
really did not want to win the girl’s money—just wanted to save 
himself from the sneers and butts of ridicule if he backed down. 

“Does Miss Storm wish to wager any money on her horse?” po¬ 
litely and kindly inquird the chief executive, with an embarrassed 
smile. 

“To be sure I do,” promptly returned Keldora as she reached 
for her purse. “I’ll wager an even hundred that I win the race,” 
and she fished out five twenties and handed them to the judges. 

“And I’d like to place a thousand on the young lady and her 
nag,” quietly asserted a tall and distinguished-looking middle-aged 
gentleman, who was dressed in the latest fashion and who bore 
every mark of an educated gentleman of wealth and high position. 

The Governor looked around and held out his hand to his new 
challenger, and said. 

“Why, howdy do, Colonel Bragston? I didn’t know that you 
were here.” 


79 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

“Oh, yes; I came down on purpose to see this remarkable race 
and to win a little easy pin-money from an old friend and school¬ 
mate—like I used to when we were youngsters at college, eh, Gov¬ 
ernor ?” teased his friend. 

The Governor was plainly flustered, for his challenger was a 
member of the Supreme Court of a naboring State, and a man 
of ample wealth to indulge any littfe whim like betting on a horse¬ 
race. The Governor was also a man of large means, and couldn’t 
ignore a public challenge like that—and especially as it was made 
in the presence of the judges and Miss Storm; so he promptly cov¬ 
ered the Colonel’s bet and passed his gold-mounted cigar-case to 
that legal light. They smoked and chatted easily together while 
the jockeys and trainers were getting Firefly (the Governor's nag ) 
ready. 

“ By the way, Governor, who is the remarkable girl that you 
are all going crazy about?” asked the Colonel in an easy and indif¬ 
ferent way. 

She is a product of southern Missouri, and her father is Colo¬ 
nel Lexington Storm, of Kentucky, and her mother comes from a 
proud old family of Mississippi, and she’s a rare genius in so many 
ways she keeps us all guessing where she’ll break out next. Of 
course she challenged me just in a bantering spirit of mischief when 
she found me bragging on my mare, and before I realized what I 
was saying I accepted her challenge, and the little hoiden and dare¬ 
devil seemed tickled to death to think that she had trapped me 
into such a ridiculous position,” explained the Governor. “But, of 
course, I shall return the money immediately the race is over,” 
went on the Governor in a satisfied manner, as tho he knew he would 
win. 

“Yes, that will be the proper thing to do,” sarcastically smiled 
the jurist. “But, of course, I won’t get mine back,” continued the 
Colonel in that ironical way of his that made the Governor smile 
with delight, for he was only too glad of a chance to win back 
some of the money he had lost to the Colonel on college poker games. 

“Indeed you won’t, you old pirate!” and the Governor slapped 
his old friend on the back and smiled sarcastically. 

“Excuse me, miss, but surely you’re not betting perfectly good 
money on that dumpy little Brownie?” facetiously inquired a hand¬ 
some and well-clad gentleman, who had just come up and had been 
told how matters were going. 

“I sure am, Mr.—er—” 


8o 


RED KLOVER. 


“I beg pardon, miss, but my name is Harold Jackson and I 
hail from Cincinnati and practice law a little when I ’m not travel¬ 
ing or following the ponies,” easily explained the gentleman, with a 
graceful lift of his fashionable hat that indicated that he was edu¬ 
cated and cultured. 

“Glad to meet anyone from th t horse-collar State” sarcastically 
bowed Keldora in acknowledgment of his auto-introduction, “and 
I have a loose hundred here that the judges are just itching to get 
their hounds on ” and she nonchalantly tossed two crisp new fifties 
to the judges amidst a storm of laffter at the stranger’s expense. 
He blushed a little in spite of his profession, and then fished out a 
hundred in tens and handed it to the judges. 

“You’re certainly game, little girl,” admiringly admitted Mr. 
Jackson, “and as you’re from Missouri, I presume you’ll show us 
whether or not that little Pegasus can go some,” pleasantly con¬ 
tinued the gentleman from Cinci. 

“I’m something of a demonstrator, Mr. Jackson, and may pos¬ 
sibly be able to gratify your curiosity,” returned Keldora in a fine 
tone of irony that would cut diamonds. 

“And I have a stray fifty dollars I’d like to wager on my chum’s 
‘Brownie’ ,” sarcastically announced Zenda, with a malicious look 
at the well-dressed gentleman from the North. 

“I’ll take it, miss,” announced a dinky little cuss who looked 
like a barber, and he flashed out two twenties and a ten gold-piece 
and handed them with his name to the judges. Zenda quickly cov¬ 
ered his money and then hurried back to her chum. 

“I’d like to place a hundred on the Governor’s nag,” leeringly 
anounced a swaggering big bully, who looked like a steamboat 
roustabout or a stevedore, and he looked challengingly at the girls. 

“I haven’t that amount of money,” quietly admitted Zenda, 
“but I’ll wager my mare here that the Governor’s nag is a slow 
train,” flashed back Zenda at him, and her eyes snapped like the 
jaws of an Arkansaw bob-cat when it jumps for a dog. 

The big ruffneck looked the mare over critically and then ’lowed 
“ she wor wuth that smol ermount”; so he paid over his hundred to the 
judges and Zenda led her mare over to them and they accepted her in 
lieu of the money. “Gee! but ther little one’s game all right,” 
he said, and gave Zenda an admiring smile that he meant for a 
compliment. 

Just then a trainer came up and announced that Firefly 
was ready and inquired if the “little gal from 01 ’ Mizzuri” was 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 81 

ready. She was ready and her eyes flashed like a Borneo volca¬ 
no having an epileptic fit. The race was to be a mile dash and it 
would take just two laps around the track to make it. 

The animals were ridden out in front of the grand-stand and 
were permitted to prance and caper around for about twenty min¬ 
utes, so that all could see them and thus decide whichway they 
wished to bet. Even the Dean was just itching to risk a fifty on 
the race, but her dignity and religious scruples and position as head 
of the “Sem.” forbade it; so she just sat tight and grinned. She 
also wore a bit of purple at her throat on this unusual occasion, and 
it was the first time she had departed from the eternal plain and 
severe black which she always wore. 

The betting was lively, with the odds slightly in favor of the 
Governor’s nag, for she was built on the traditional lines of the 
racer, while Keldora’s animal did resemble a fat and dumpy little 
Brownie. 

One of the judges led the animals up to a line by their bridles 
and explained that when he said u Go!” they were to let them out 
and skedaddle for all they were worth. The animals were restive 
of all restraint and wanted to be off. The jockey on the Govern¬ 
or’s mare was evidently nervous and considerably rattled, but Kei- 
dora calmly sat her steed like a Gipsy queen that was born in the 
saddle and lived in a stable. She was all smiles and saucily threw 
kisses to the vast assemblage in the grand-stand, and this brot 
out a roar of applause that couid be heard to Chattanooga or Mem¬ 
phis. Finally the word was given, and the splendid animals leaped 
forward with such speed the jockey was almost unseated, but the 
mare knew her business all right and would have done better with¬ 
out him. Keldora was calm and leaned gracefully forward and pat¬ 
ted Prince on his neck and simply whispered, “Go, boy mine!” 
and he went, too. He had an antagonist worthy of h ! s steel, for 
Firefly was a fine animal and could surely go. They kept neck and 
neck up to the first quarter, and then up to the half post Prince 
lost a little ground and was a full length behind Firefly. At the 
three-quarter post he had regained about 3 feet, but lost it again 
before they .reached the quarter on the second lap, and at the half 
he was fully two lengths to the bad and still seemed to be losing. 
The fans were either yelling or groaning, according to which side 
their money and sympathies were on. Keldora now leaned over 
and whispered that Strange Something in Prince’s little ears and he 
sprang forward like magic and at the three-quarter he was a neck 


82 


RED KLOVER . 


ahead and gaining rapidly, and then Keldora let out the old Mis¬ 
souri yell and Prince seemed to change into a bird with 16-cylinder 
wings, and sailed under the wire about six lengths of himself ahead 
of the Governor’s nag. 

Such a roar and babble of incoherent yells that went up from 
everywhere was enuff to turn almost any head—young or old— 
but Keldora and Zenda took it all stoically and did not get a bit 
excited. The men rushed up to Prince and placed Keldora on their 
shoulders and carried her up and down in front of the judges’ stand 
a half-dozen times before they let her get back to her beloved Prince. 
Such an ovation no one had ever before received in Nashville. 

“Now, Governor, be sure and return the kid’s money,” was the 
sarcastic shot the Judge fired at his old friend as he drifted away 
to get something to steady his nerves. He instructed the judges 
to pay the one thousand dollars he had won from the Governor to 
Keldora, “for she and her wonderful pony did all the work and 
are really entitled to it.” Then two thousand eight hundred dollars 
more that Prince had won for those who bet on him was turned 
over to the “brave littie gal from Missouri,” as most of the men 
termed her. 

The Governor congratulated the girls and insisted that he was 
going to give a big Thanksgiving dinner and reception to the elite 
and extended a cordial invitation to both girls, as he wished them 
to be the special guests of honor. The Governor was game and 
didn’t mind what he lost to Keldora, but the parting shot the Judge 
gave him was what got his Nancy Animal. Anyway, the people 
could never accuse him of backing down from a school-girl, and 
that was worth several times the pittance he lost. As we do not 
know how the Governor’s wife rubbed it in on him when they got 
home and were alone, we won’t try to tell it on him; besides, you 
married men can easily guess it anyway. 

Keldora only had about twenty thousand offers to buy Prince 
at figures ranging all the way from fifteen hundred dollars to fif¬ 
teen thousand dollars, but she was loyal and would not part with 
him for the world. He was a friend, a companion, a chum, a pal, 
and a gold-mine all rolled into one—and then some. He was her 
railroad and automobile and street car. Just what were the Mys¬ 
terious Words that she always whispered in his ears at the psycho¬ 
logical moment and when a crisis was imminent she would never 
divulge—so I cannot tell you, but they always had the desired ef¬ 
fect and won the day for her. It is my opinion, however, that the 


83 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

pony was a fine subject for hypnosis , and her mystic words imme¬ 
diately threw him into a state of complete hypnosis and then his legs 
and muscles passed under the control of his subconscious mind, and 
that mysterious dynamo gave additional strength and velocity. 

The girls pleasantly declined to ride home with the Governor, 
but deftly mounted their steeds, after collecting the money they 
won and that was left for them by others who had won it on the 
pony, and cantered back to town and then rode around the city for 
an hour and then put up their horses and returned to the “Sem.,” 
where the whole class and most of the teachers were waiting to 
congratulate them and squeeze them. They were Itt, but took 
it all modestly and quietly and thanked them all for their kind 
words and praise; then they hurried to their room to count 
their winnings. Keldora’s amounted to just four thousand dollars 
and Zenda’s to one hundred and fifty dollars. “A pretty good 
day’s work, dear!” cried Zenda, and she gathered Keldora up in 
her arms and proceeded to love her to death. Keldora insisted on 
dividing her winnings with Zenda, but the little Arkansawer would 
not accept it. Zenda was the same age as Keldora, lacking five 
days, and they were inseparable and grew fonder of each other 
every day. That night and the next they wrote long accounts of 
it to their parents, and Zenda’s mother was in for bringing the 
child right home, but her dad “’lowed the kid was doin’ right smart 
well.” Keldora’s parents rejoiced in her successes and were sorry 
she wasn’t twins. The good stock in her along with the right kind 
of ideas were bearing fruit of the desirable kind, and they were very 
proud and happy and filled with a great longing to see their only 
child again. Their new honeymoon since left alone was bringing 
back all the old flowers and many new ones. 

The girls attended the Governor’s Thanksgiving reception and 
were his guests of honor and scored many new triumphs and met 
many of the elite of the city. The Governor’s nephew, who rode as 
a jockey on that memorable day, when formally introduced to the 
girls, was so embarrassed and rattled that he stammered a few polite 
commonplaces and then beat a hasty retreat. The girls really 
wanted to talk to him and be real nice to him, but all his school¬ 
mates and friends had rubbed it in on him so unmercifully for let¬ 
ting a little school-girl outrun him in a horse-race that he didn’t have 
the nerve to face the music. At the dinner the Governor’s wife 
tried to arrange it so Paul would sit beside Keldora, but the young 
cub just couldn’t be caught in any such trap as that. At this din- 


RED KLOVER. 


84 

ner the girls sang and rendered some rare selections, but some of 
the little wood-songs they composed themselves made the greatest 
hit with their distinguished audience, and Keldora just had to re¬ 
peat her little ode to the Ozark birds three times before they would 
be satisfied. She invited the Governor and his family to visit her 
and her parents in their “Dreamland Home ” out in the dear old 
Ozarks, “And then I’ll take you out to the wonderful little temple 
of trees and tangled vines and wild flowers where I composed that 
little song and others, for I can always sing so much better when on 
Nature’s stage,” she tossed to her host and hostess as she was tak¬ 
ing her leave of them. 

“We shall be delighted to come and visit you all and meet 
your parents,” exclaimed the Governor and his wife and dauter, 
“for we are curious to see the soil and environment that produce 
such rare and charming products,” gallantly went on the Governor. 
“And when we take our vacation next summer you may expect us,” 
added the Governor’s wife. 

Chapter XVIII. 

KELDORA MEETS A MINISTER AND A BURGLAR. 

The papers were full of the Governor’s Thanksgiving dinner 
and reception and for the first time had a fairly good picture of 
Keldora and a vivid account of her wonderful voice and musical 
talents, and concluded their story by handing the Governor a little 
friendly tip to never bet on “hoss’’-races any more. They also 
finally prevailed on Keldora to let them publish some of her poems 
and songs, and these were copied widely by the press and highly 
praised. 

The girls were very happy now and everything at the “Sem.” 
just hummed, and the Dean occasionally had a bouquet of flowers 
on her desk—and also so far forgot her “dignity and religious train¬ 
ing” as to wear just a speck of color at her throat and to attend a 
few of the better attractions at the theaters; in fact, she was de¬ 
veloping a few mild symptoms of humanity and gave some slight 
promise of becoming civilized instead of fossilized. The pupils all 
noted the change for the better in all of the teachers, and hailed it 
with gladness. 

Keldora and Zenda rode out and around whenever the weather 
was favorable and applied themselves studiously to their studies 
and music; and since meeting the Governor and so many people 
who were prominent politically, Keldora and Zenda became quite 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 85 

interested in Civil Government and Political Economy; and it 
didn’t take them long to detect the camouflage and hypocrisy in 
these things. Camouflage and hypocrisy had small chance to get 
by these two critical guards. When they were satisfied that a 
thing was wrong or in error, they didn’t hesitate to say so, and it 
mattered not at all how many were the “ authorities ” championing a 
wrong or an error. Keldora had been taught from infancy to only 
accept Reason and Truth as her authority; hence she had many 
conflicts with her pious and stupid teachers on this point. What 
if St, Paul did deny women the right to speak in church? “Where 
did the ancient gentleman get the right to deny others the rights 
he claimed for himself?” asked Keldora of a prominent divine who 
tried to inculcate that barbarous and monstrous idea at chapel one 
morning. “And why should women be denied any rights that men 
enjoy? Aren’t we women human beings, and don’t we do more 
than half the work of the world and about three-fourths of the suf¬ 
fering?” went on the little Missourian. 

“But, my child, the ‘Good Book’ says so and it was written 
by inspired men” mildly countered the Reverend. 

“Inspired fiddlesticks!” retorted Keldora, with a fine vein of 
irony. “If they were inspired , why did they make so many mis¬ 
takes and write so many stupid and foolish things? Your St. Paul 
was such a devil of a saint he never got married—probably couldn’t 
find any woman fool enuff to marry a man who was so lost to 
all sense of decency and fairness as to deny the woman who bore 
him the right of free speech. A grouchy old bachelor with a sand- 
bur in his mean and dinky little soul! The idea of that old hill¬ 
billy presuming to judge half the human race and prescribe rules 
for our conduct! Besides, your beloved Christ said; ‘Judge not, 
lest ye be judged,’ and yet this old solitaire bachelor flies right in 
the face of his professed teacher and master by pronouncing judg¬ 
ment on my sex, and without even giving us a chance to be heard 
in our own defense. Why, even the law gives everyone the right to 
defend him or herself, and even a judge in pronouncing sentence 
on a condemned criminal always politely asks the poor devil if he 
has anything to say or any reason why sentence should not be pro¬ 
nounced on him; and yet here is this insufferable person who calmly 
pronounces judgment on half the human race, and all because we 
happened to be women; and he even goes on and prescribes how 
we should dress. Just think of an old bach coming up here to the 
‘Sem.’ and telling us all what to wear and when to take our hats 


86 


RED KLOVER. 


off and when to keep them on! Oh, but wouldn’t I like to meet 
the conceited mortal and take the afflatus out of his sails!” and 
her eyes were glowing like a panther’s just as it is ready to spring 
at an enemy. 

“Miss Storm, you seem to have some very advanced and rad¬ 
ical ideas in regard to the teachings of St. Paul, and you are the 
first real Suffrajet I ever met; however, we’ll not have time to 
discuss the matter at present, but I may call on you at some more 
icropitious time and try to show you the error of your ways,” grace- 
fiiully returned the Reverend. 

“I’m always open to convictions, Reverend Tellus, and any 
ptime you care to cross swords with me, I’m ready for the mental 
battle—or a horse-race, either.” 

This last sally brought down a big laff at the Reverend’s ex¬ 
pense, for he had openly in his church denounced horse-racing as 
a “deadly sin.” 

“I’m afraid the reverend gentleman is like the fellow down in 
my State who grabbed a wildcat—he was ready to let go long before 
the cat was,” fired Zenda at the Reverend as he was preparing to 
leave the rostrum. 

This witticism fired in Zenda’s fine irony delighted the girls 
and even brought a smile to the faces of some of the teachers. This 
is how Keldora became known as “The Suffrajet ,” and the title al¬ 
ways clung to her. She rapidly developed into a Suff. militant , and 
was the champion of her sex and the equal rights of all human be¬ 
ings; and Zenda was her lieutenant, and a fearless one too. Most 
of the girls became broadened and liberalized on account of Kel¬ 
dora and her rationalism and brave defense of it. The old fossils 
who knew her and her abilities refused to cross swords with her. 

The Dean had a secret sense of humor concealed about her 
some place, for she had long tried to bring that “conceited young 
Baptist minister” and Keldora together without appearing to do 
so, and at last she almost succeeded; but the Reverend Tellus got 
wind of the slyly arranged bout and tipped it off to his younger 
brother of the cloth, and the little coward backed down and sent 
an excuse that a dying parishioner had sent for him at that par¬ 
ticular time and just when he was ready to start to the “Sem.” 
“to correct the young lady (Keldora) in her erroneous ideas of 
the Bible and set her right.” So the poor old Dean and her pupils 
missed a rare piece of sport. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 87 

“We’d have eaten him alive, dear,” mused Zenda to Keldora 
when they were alone that evening. 

“The poor little sky-gazer wouldn’t have been enuff for the 
first course,” laffed Keldora in return. 

Things ran along smoothly and in the usual routine rut until 
the 22d of April, when a burglar forced his way into the “Sem.” 
about 2 a. m. and proceeded from room to room and was collecting 
quite a lot of loot from the girls and teachers when one of the teach¬ 
ers woke up with a start at finding a man in her room who was 
going calmly thru her things and collecting everything valuable. 
She was so dumbfounded and startled that she was speechless for a 
while, and then she let out a series of feminine screams and shrieks 
that soon awoke the entire bunch. 

“Help! Murder! Fire! O God, save us!” shrieked this pious 
old lady, who was about fifty-five and who always trusted in “Divine 
Providence.” Divine Providence was evidently off duty that night, 
for he came not to her rescue, as a thoroly reliable and properly 
trained D. P. should have done. He didn’t even send a proxy. 
Almost any old thing in the way of help or a life-preserver would have 
been acceptable just then. 

“Mercy, mercy, Mr. Burglar! O Heaven, help me!” went on 
the thoroly frightened creature. 

Similar screams and pleadings went up from all parts of the 
dormitory, and panic and pandemonium reigned. 

The Dean came running in in her black pajamas with her 
hair streaming down the hall like a pirate’s flag in a gale.? She was 
barefooted and her corns bulged out like roasting-ears at half-mast. 
She burst into the teacher’s room and dropped on her knees and 
began a wild and incoherent address to .her Deity and the burglar; 

“O Gawd, spare us! Save us! He’ll kill us! O Mr. Man* 
please spare us! and oh, do go away, please! Help, Christ! Oh* 
we need Thee! Mr. Burglar, won’t you spare us for your mother’s 
sake?” 

“ Shut up, you frightened old cat 1 Nobody’s goin’ to harm you. 
Just keep quiet while I make er little collection for ther Mishunary 
Fund,” facetiously laffed the burglar, and then he proceeded to 
ransack the room for money or jewels. Then he glanced over at 
the Dean and the other teacher, where they huddled in a corner 
and continued to pray. When he observed what a sight the Dean 
was, he casually remarked as he deliberately lighted a cigar: 

“I don t find much jewelry in this young thing’s room, but I 


88 


RED KLOVER. 


believe I’ll just take You as a jewel!” Then as she began to 
scream again he snorted out into a boisterous laff. 

Most of the other girls had gathered around the door and were 
shivering and praying and gibbering like a lot of frightened mon¬ 
keys. Many of them had crawled under their beds and tried to 
hide their money and valuables. 

This all happened in about two minutes’ time. Not one of the 
bunch seemed to know what to do. 

Just then Keldora and Zenda arrived on the scene and burst 
thru the crowd and made a leap for the burglar. He was so dis¬ 
concerted and surprised he dropped his cigar and stared like one 
entranced. He caught the fiery look in Keldora’s wonderful eyes 
and seemed hypnotized. She landed on top of him like a panther 
and threw her arms around his neck and began to choke him with 
all her might, and as her right arm was fairly under his chin she 
drew his head back so suddenly and gave it such a violent twist he 
lost all control of himself and began to gasp for air. Zenda was 
only a second behind Keldora in her rush at him and she grabbed 
his legs and pulled them from under him. He went down with a 
crash and both girls on top of him and Keldora still choking him. 

“Tear up some towels or sheets and make ropes for securing 
our uninvited guest!” yelled Keldora at the frightened girls and 
teachers, for not one offered to help Keldora and Zenda. They 
were too stunned to realize what was really happening. This woke 
up some of them and they quickly brot sheet-ropes and soon had 
the cuss trussed up until he was safe and harmless. When Keldora 
released her grip on his throat, he soon revived and blurted out: 

“Hell! you’re the little gal from Missoury that beat ther 
Governor in a fair hoss-race!” And then he smiled and continued: 
“I won three hundred dollars on your pony, Miss Storm, but I’ll 
be dinged if I knowed that you was er wildcat and er perfeshunal 
rassler all in one!” And he roared at his own humor. 

“Oh! I’m not so bad as all that, my poor misguided man, but 
I can storm a little when the occasion needs a spell o’ bad weather.” 

This return witticism made them all laff and restored order 
and sanity, and the place again looked more like a seminary than 
a mad-house. 

“Oh, Miss Storm—Keldora, I mean, what shall we do now 
that we have caught the awful man?” whimpered the Dean in a 
fearfully strained voice. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 89 

“We’d better send for the police,” chipped in several of the 
teachers and girls, who were still awfully scared. 

“Then it will get in the papers and our place will be ruined,” 
shuddered the Dean, who never lost sight of her beloved Institution 
and its bread-winning possibilities. 

“Oh! excuse me for a moment,” exclaimed the Dean as she 
caught sight of herself in fatigue uniform. She made a hasty re¬ 
treat to her own room and soon returned in the eternal and rig¬ 
orous black; but a good part of her former dignity was gone. Most 
any good burglar can knock our dignity galley-west and ungalley- 
east. 

“Dean, as Zenda and I apprehended this poor boob, I think 
you had better let us settle him in our own way,” quietly answered 
Keldora, who had come to a definite conclusion. Keldora believed 
in giving everyone a chance, and she had not forgotten what a lit¬ 
tle kindness had done to poor old Jeremiah (the mule) in the way 
of reformation and regeneration. She decided this man was a fairly 
good one, but in need of some better ideas and a chance to get off 
the shoals. 

“Mr. Burglar, most everyone here is in favor of turning you 
over to the tender mercies of the police, and that means from five 
to twenty years in prison.” 

“Heavens! don’t do that, please, for my poor wife and little 
girl baby are sick and in need of me,” pleaded the wretch, with pen¬ 
itent tears coursing down his ruff cheeks. 

“If you tell me the truth and I am satisfied that you want to 
begin all over again and play fairly from now on, I may give you 
a chance,” said Keldora, without any feeling of resentment in her 
voice. She turned those wonderful eyes full into his and he saw 
a new light and surrendered unconditionally. 

“Oh, yes, miss, I do want to be honest! but I’ve had so much 
bad luck ever since our little boy died of pneumonia in January, 
and then my wife was confined and has been sick ever since our 
little girl was born in February. The doctor bills cleaned us out 
and we still owe more’n a hundred: Then I got sick and lost my 
job. The little girl seemed ter do no good with er sick ma and 
we were all starvin’ and the grocer and butcher would not let us 
have any credit. I got desperate and decided that I would save 
Lela and ther baby if I had ter stay in prison all my life.” And 
he cried like a child. 


9 o 


RED KLOVER. 


“Is this your first offense against the law and humanity?” 
asked Keldora. 

“Oh, yes, miss! and if it hadn’t er bin fer our sickness and all 
ther bad luck, I never would have done such er wicked and desperate 
thing.” He was shaking like one going to the gallows, and it was 
quite evident that the man was just convalescent from a spell of 
sickness. 

“What is your age and your name?” 

“I’m twenty-six in May and my name is Joel Clark.” 

“Where do you live?” 

“We live at-Cherry Street, and Mrs. Clark and the baby 

are there now,” returned Joel in a tone of voice that had a tinge of 
hope in it. 

“Mr. Clark, we’re going to keep you here under guard till I 
can investigate your story, and if I find it true and feel that I can 
trust you, I’ll give you a chance to make good,” said Keldora kindly. 

“Better call in the police for such poo’h white trash,” spit out 
the teacher who was so badly frightened and who called on “Di¬ 
vine Providence” so loudly. 

“Christ said, ‘Turn the other cheek and forgive them that de- 
spitefully use you,’” quoted Keldora sarcastically; “besides, you 
may be just as wrong in what is best to do with him as you were in 
calling on Divine Providence for help a short while ago,” contin¬ 
ued Keldora, with a look of pitying scorn that completely squelched 
her. “Remember, Zenda and I were the only D. P. that was on 
the job to-night.” 

This caused the girls to laff and smile, for this teacher was 
not much of a hit with the pupils anyway. Then, turning to the 
burglar, she continued: 

“I’m going down where you say you live, and while I am gone 
I’m going to keep you in a room here with my little chum as your 
guard, and I assure you that she is something in the wildcat line 
when the occasion requires, so it will be quite useless for you to 
try to escape,” explained Keldora to him. 

“All right, miss; I won’t try to escape and you will find that 
I have told the truth and that all I ask is a chance to be good and 
get on my feet again.” 

They put him in a vacant room, and Zenda sat at the open 
door as his jailer. She never allowed her eyes to leave him for an 
instant. 

Keldora hurried down to the number on Cherry Street and 



9i 


TEE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 

found a real pretty but sadly wasted little country girl of only nine¬ 
teen, who admitted that she was Mrs. Joel Clark. The poor little 
thing was badly wasted and attenuated from sickness, childbirth 
and starvation, and her infant baby, a little more than two months 
old, was moaning and crying for nourishment, which the poor faded 
little mother could not furnish. She barely had enuff vitality 
to sustain her own life a little while longer without furnishing sus¬ 
tenance to another human being. Her plight was pitiable, but she 
tried to be cheerful and optimistic and attempted to belittle her 
poverty and condition. 

“Yes, my husband has been sick too, and out of work, and we 
are in rather bad luck just now,” she explained; “but he went out 
to-night to answer a call for a man wanted for night work in a res¬ 
taurant, and won’t be back till about 9 o’clock,” explained the faith¬ 
ful little soul. 

He had never told her the truth about how he intended trying 
to raise some money for food and other necessities. Keldora at 
once decided to not let the wife know the truth about the matter, 
for in her weakened condition the shock would prove fatal; be¬ 
sides, it wasn’t necessary that she ever know it—provided her hus¬ 
band went straight, and she believed he would. 

Keldora hurried back to the “Sem.” and informed them that 
Clark had told the truth and acquainted them with the sad con¬ 
dition of the poor little wife and baby. They nearly all expressed 
sympathy and were in favor of releasing the captive. 

“Mr. Clark, I find that you told me the truth, and if you will 
give me your promise and word of honor that you will never at¬ 
tempt anything crooked again, and that you will never again touch 
liquor nor tobacco, and do as I tell you, you may return to your 
wife and child.” 

“Yes, miss, I give you my word of honor that I will do as you 
have requested; and oh, I’m so glad I’ve met you and found a 
human being that has a heart full of kindness and'sympathy!” pro¬ 
tested the poor man; “and I’m so sorry for my crime, and I apolo¬ 
gize to you all, and assure you all that I’ll never attempt such a 
thing again.” And the tears of joy and shame raced wtih one an¬ 
other down his dirty and furrowed cheeks. 

“Untie him, Zenda, and I’ll be back in a minute,” and then 
she hurried to her room and skinned five hundred dollars off her 
roll and hurried back with it. 


92 


RED KLOVER. 


“Oh y but it feels good to be free again and among such friends!” 
breathed the poor cuss, with a sigh of relief. 

“Here is some money to tide you all over your sickness and 
to pay the doctor and any other debts you owe—” 

“But, miss, I can’t accept money from you,” protested Joel 
and he staggered as tho someone had struck him a blow. 

“Mr. Clark, didn’t you just promise to obey me?” and she 
gave him a quiet and reproachful look that went clear thru him 
and clinched itself on the other side. 

“Yes, I did. But, oh, Miss Storm, you’re too good to a wretch 
like me—I don’t deserve it!” protested the man. 

‘‘Of course you deserve it, and I’m the doctor and judge both 
in this case, and you’re to obey orders,” smiled Keldora; “besides 
it wouldn’t do a bit of good to turn you loose in your weakened 
condition to go back to your starving wife and child penniless. 
Money is the only medicine that can do you any good now and I 
am prescribing it. I didn’t tell your wife about your little mis¬ 
step and the predicament it got you in, and you’re not to mention 
it to her, either; in fact, she is never to know it.” 

And Keldora looked at all the others and her look was to be 
their law—at least in this case. They nodded their ssent. 

‘Now you hurry back to your wife and get food and things 
as soon as you can get in the stores, for they need food first of all, 
and Zenda and I will come down and help your wife and baby after 
we get breakfast.” 

Then he quietly and with a new hope in his hunted eyes left 
the “Sem.” for his home At that moment a new soul was born 
in him, and the birds all seemed to be singing a new song—the great 
song of Humanity; and for the first time in his stressful and 
storm-tossed life he understood the great cosmic truth enunciated 
by the Galilean Teacher, “Love thy neighbor as thyslf and the 
word humanity now had meaning—it was a beautiful and living 
thing that was stretching out its loving and all-embracing arms to 
all human-kind. He walked with a new step, for there was music 
in his feet. The crass animal in him died and the human was born. 
The winters would never faze the flowers any more, and all his 
nights hereafter would be spent at home with Lela and the baby. 
No more drinking and smoking and carousing around with the 
“boys.” His only ambition now was to be a real man and make 
good “fer her sake,” as he designated Keldora. 

“Gee! but couldn’t she and her little chum fight like a passel 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET , 93 

o’ wildcats?” mused Joel to himself one day after he was well and 
was returning to his home from his day’s work. 

Keldora, Zenda and one of the older girls, Mesta Oaks, went 
down on Church Street about 8 o’clock and bought the things that 
Lela Clark most needed, and then they went down there and the 
way they cleaned her and the baby and the house up was a caution. 
When they got thru, the place looked like a different place— 
clean bedding, clean clothes—everything was clean and new, and 
every little necessity they needed Keldora bought and took to them. 
Joel returned from a shopping expedition while they were there, 
and they soon had all three of them eating real food and laffing 
and crying by turns. Joel wanted to send for a doctor, but Kel¬ 
dora said it was not necessary at all, as what they all needed was 
plenty of good food, cleanliness, clean clothes and a sanitary house, 
and with all worry and strain off their minds, they’d soon be well 
and normal again—and her predictions came rapidly true; in fact, 
it was astonishing how rapidly and completely they all responded 
to a normal life. And Joel made good, too. He studied hard at 
spare moments and gradually acquired a fair education, and as 
soon as he was well enuff he got a job down at the wharf, and then 
later with the railroad, and finally he became one of the best en¬ 
gineers on the L. & N. He never relapsed from the right path, and 
was soon respected and liked by his employers and fellow-workmen. 

They soon moved out in the suburbs of East Nashville, where 
they would have no rent to pay and where they could buy a home 
on the installment plan, and where they could have a garden, a 
cow and some pigs and chickens, and be among the trees and grass, 
and have plenty of flowers and bird-music. Here he and h‘s faith¬ 
ful wife reared their little girl and a stalwart son, and enjoyed life 
to the full—all due to Keldora’s good sense and humanity. If it 
hadn’t been for her, the poor devil would have been hardened into 
a sure-enuff criminal in the penitentiary, and his wife would have 
been killed by the shock and his infant dauter would have died 
of starvation and neglect. How useless prisons will be when we 
all become civilized and Humanity is our universal religion! 

Keldora and Zenda nursed and helped their new protegees back 
to health and often dined with them, and just loved to play with 
the baby and watch her grow and develop into a fine and healthy 
girl. 

The story of Joel’s one wrong move on life’s great checker¬ 
board was never revealed and his wife never knew of it. In his 


94 


RED KLOVER. 


eyes Keldora was the one perfect human being, and he would have 
gladly laid his soul down for her to walk on. 

Chapter XIX. 

KELDORA AND ZENDA START FOR THE OZARKS. 

The burglar stunt was the talk of the “Sem.,” and altho ev¬ 
ery student promised to keep it under her hat, it soon leaked out; 
but the one important thing that did not leak out was the identity 
of the burglar. At first a few of the pupils and two of the teachers 
thought it ought to be reported to the authorities and let the law 
take its course, but Keldora and Zenda soon convinced these old 
fogies that such a course would only make matters much worse, and 
as none of them lost anything, and as it had afforded them some 
real sport of a startling nature, they soon came over and admitted 
that Keldora was right. 

The girls invited the teacher who was so frightened and whom 
the burglar guyed to accompany them down on Cherry Street and 
see the little wife and the baby and see what a wonderful change 
a little humanity and common sense had wrought in that family 
that was so near the Fatal Edge. The girls carried books to Mrs. 
Clark and soon got her interested in reading and studying, and it 
wasn’t long until there was as great change for the better in her 
mental condition as there was improvement in her physical status; 
and oh, how the kid did come out of her sickly and puny condition 
and grow into a real bright and healthy child! and every time Kel¬ 
dora and Zenda came to visit them she would run to meet them, 
and as soon as she could lisp a few words she would call Keldora 
“Anty K’dora,” and Zenda was “Tant Zendv,” and she just wor¬ 
shiped them both, and would cry to go with them when they had 
to depart. During one of their calls on the Clark family after they 
had moved out to their new home in East Nashville, Lela asked 
Keldora to suggest a pretty name for her little girl, as she and Joel 
had not yet decided on a name, and Joel felt sure, she told them, 
that any name Keldora or Zenda would give the child would al¬ 
ways bring the youngster good luck. This touched a Mysterious 
Something near the center of their souls that greatly pleased them. 

“But wouldn’t you and Joel prefer to name the child?” queried 
Keldora in that quiet and softly dignified way of hers. 

“Oh, no, Miss Storm! we could never think of anything half 
so pretty as you all could,” protested the little mother. 

“Very well, then; as Zenda and I are both her aunts, I think a 


95 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

combination of both our names would be very odd and pretty and 
appropriate. We’ll just put it Kelzenda —Kelzenda Clark, if that 
will be agreeable to you and Joel,” announced Keldora, with a bright 
smile that was contagious, for they all laffed heartily and acqui¬ 
esced in this decision. 

“Just the thing!” enthused Zenda, “and I feel sure the child 
can never have any bad luck with such a mascot of a name as that,” 
and they all laffed again. 

Keldora got some fresh water, and while Lela held the young¬ 
ster in the orthodox attitude, Keldora solemnly christened the child 
Kelzenda Clark —and Kelzenda Clark it was. 

When Joel returned that evening from w r ork and was informed 
of the proceedings, he was simply delighted and would have bet 
his last dollar that the kid would win every race on Life’s slip¬ 
pery old track; and when he realized that it was a combination 
of both their names, he was very happy and proud. 

There are few beings who haven’t got enuff good seed latent 
in them to bring forth an abundant harvest if placed in the right 
kind of environment and the seed given a chance to burgeon into 
a normal harvest, and the girls proved this in Joel’s case. It didn’t 
take them long to free Lela’s mind from its old fogy ideas about life. 
They soon convinced her that Humanity was the only religion worth 
while, and that Reason and Experience were the best teachers and 
guides. They taught her how to cook properly and the value of 
foods and the importance of cleanliness and fresh air and close con¬ 
tact with the earth. They taught her to make their clothes and 
how to raise a garden scientifically, and the importance of system¬ 
atic shopping and the utilization of everything that could be made 
to serve some good purpose. 

“How in the world do you girls happen to know so much?” 
gasped Lela one evening when Keldora and Zenda were inculcating 
some new ideas about life and how it is moulded and shaped by 
its environment. 

“In the first place, dear, we have only been taught the truth 
and haven’t had to waste precious time unlearning a lot of bunk 
called religion and social ethics; and then we read scientific and 
Free-thought literature and thus acquire real learning,” explained 
Keldora. 

“Well, if your religion of Humanity will make me anywhere 
near like you all are, I sure intend to absorb all of it I can find,” 
enthusiastically exclaimed the little mother, with a great light of 


9 6 


RED KLOVER. 


hope and enthusiasm shining thru her face from her purified and re¬ 
deemed soul. “I certainly would have died and my baby perished 
from starvation and neglect if it hadn’t been for you all and your 
goodness,” ardently cried Lela, “and you all will ever be my guiding 
star,” continued the happy wife and mother between the tears that 
just would sneak down her happy cheeks in spite of all her efforts 
to restrain them. 

“Helping others and being kind to all living creatures is the 
central pillar of our religion,” quietly explained Keldora, “and when 
one becomes truly converted to our religion of Humanity, he ceases 
to be selfish and dishonest and is always happiest when helping 
others.” 

“So in helping you folks we are only practicing our religion,” 
smiled Zenda by way of confirming what Keldora had just said. 

“Yes, helping others and being square and humane is the best 
way to make the flowers bloom in your own soul and the birds sing 
in your heart,” concluded Keldora. 

Then the girls kissed Lela and Kehenda , and after a squeezing 
from them, they departed on Prince and Wingie and put in a couple 
of hours out in the country, playing and singing as they rode along. 
They were both ahead of their classes and were sure of graduating 
with high honors; so they were very happy, and the future was 
only a perfumed wilderness of tangled vines and fragrant flowers. 

In the latter part of June they had completed the three-years 
course and graduated with the highest honors and were the recip¬ 
ients of many compliments and invitations from prominent people 
to visit them. The only invitation they accepted was from the 
Governor, and he gave a farewell dinner to them on the eve of their 
departure. At this reception they met many people of social and 
literary prominence and scored the biggest kind of a hit. When it 
was learned that they intended to make the trip home on horse¬ 
back and unattended, the Governor and his guests were sure sur¬ 
prised and alarmed; but the girls laffed their fears away and as¬ 
sured their host that “a little jaunt of four hundred miles on horses 
that could run was nothing at ail,” and the way Keldora empha¬ 
sized the words “could run” caused a big laff at the Governor’s 
expense. 

They were eighteen now and just at that sweet and impression¬ 
able age when the heart longs for that Strange and Hungry Something 
that keeps the vines tangled and the flowers blooming all down the 
dim and Trackless Ages. Just what that Strange Something is no 


97 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

one seems to know, but we are all subject to its soft and silver-voiced 
call, and sooner or later we all fall for it and hoist the white flag of 
surrender. 

The heart of youth craves life and excitement and must have 
some tangled vines and flowers and new-mown hay in which to 
dream. Every life must have its Dream —every foot must have its 
dance. Keldora and Zenda now longed to get away in the wild 
and bird-voiced woods and let Old Mamselle Nature tell their for¬ 
tunes among the wild and friendly flowers—where the timid wood- 
dove mumbles its wordless love-songs all day, and where the wild 
fox slips down to the yodling brook at eventide to slake its thirst 
and yearn at the new moon as it lazily rises above the haze-capped 
peaks off to the east. 

There is Something about the deep and silent solitude of the 
Primeval Woods and the Eternal Hills, where all life is a free and 
Tangled Symphony , that just gets in the blood and riots and tunes 
our souls to the music of the tumbling waters and the wind-swayed; 
vines that ding to the free and lofty trees. It is here in this balmy 
and Trackless Arcadia of Nature, where the greedy and dollar- 
marked feet of man have made no crooked paths to mar its per¬ 
fect beauty, that our souls are free and life a Tranquil Dream. 

Now that they had been cooped up about three years in an 
orthodox school and an environment where almost everything was 
unnatural, hypocritical and sordid, they had a big and vigorous 
touch of the Old Primeval Fever—the fever that is germless, but 
burns the soul with a mighty thirst. It was now the latter’part 
of June, and all Nature was glorious and resplendent and was send¬ 
ing out wireless messages to these two hypersensitive souls, whose 
natures were ever in accord with our Great All-Mother. The pros¬ 
pect of a four-hundred-mile jaunt on their beloved and sympathetic 
steeds, which so loved them that they never had to be tied nor hitched 
was exhilarating and soul-teazing. Their books and heavy things 
they sent home by express and only carried their banjo and guitar, 
six-shooters and rifles and a few garments they really would need; 
so they were not burdened with much luggage to fatigue the horses! 
They were in no hurry, and intended to enjoy the trip and study 
the country as they went along. 

The girls and teachers gave them a big farewell reception, and 
the Dean even condescended to squeeze them and kissed them good¬ 
bye thru her tears, which she could not quite restrain. 

“Good-bye, and God protect and bless you!” fervently ex- 


98 


RED KLOVER. 


claimed the Dean, and then she turned away to hide her honest 
tears. 

“Good-bye and good luck to all of you!” exclaimed the-girls; 
and then the splendid animals leaped forward like they do in a race 
and galloped off on Sixth Avenue toward the great Northwest—to 
Keldora’s ideal home in the beautiful Ozarks. It didn’t take them 
long to shake the dirt of old Nashville off their restless feet. They 
covered about thirty-five miles that day, and tied up for the night 
at a farm-house in northern Tennessee. They enjoyed their day’s 
ride, and had rested about an hour and a half under a big spread¬ 
ing walnut tree that stood sentinel over a pretty little creek that 
emptied into the Cumberland River a few miles to the southeast. 

While Prince and Wingie munched the soft and abundant grass 
and rubbed their noses together at intervals, Keldora and Zenda 
ate a light lunch of nuts, fruit and cheese, and then played and sang 
like a couple of woodland fairies. It wasn’t long until five villain¬ 
ous-looking negroes approached from behind some bushes a short 
distance down the stream, and politely exclaimed: 

“ Weuns just couldn’t stand such fine music as you all’s playin’ 
without cornin’ nearer to it!” 

“That’s all right, but the music will be sweeter and sound bet¬ 
ter if you stay over there by those trees!” announced Keldora in a 
tone of voice that had a master ring to it. 

“Oh, miss! we all ain’t agoin’ to hurt you all—don’t be afeared; 
we’s just a passel o’ wufless niggers what’s fond of music,” pro¬ 
tested a big mulatto, who appeared to be their spokesman; but 
they all kept on edging up a .dtde closer as they protested their 
good intentions, and two of the younger ones proceeded to execute 
some grotesque dance movements and chant some wild, and unin¬ 
telligent folk-lore current among the negroes of the Southland. 
The girls put down their instruments and immediately drew their 
revolvers, 

“We also play on these war instruments, and I see a fly on your 
nose that needs picking off,” laffingly exclaimed Keldora, and 
before the astonished blacks realized her intentions, she took light¬ 
ning aim and let go a shot that clipped a fly from the leader’s big 
yellow nose and just touched the skin where the fly had been tak¬ 
ing a walk. At almost the same time Zenda shot the pipe out of 
another one’s mouth and it splintered into a thousand pieces. This 
was too much for the blacks and they precipitately fled over the 
banks and lost no time putting space between themselves and the 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 99 

calico troubadours. After they had run for about two miles, the 
gang stopped under some trees to rest a bit and have a talk, etc. 

“Sufferin’ catfish I” exclaimed Paducah Sam, a big black who 
worked on river craft when he worked at all and was out of jail, 
“but dem gals is sure some dead shots, I’se heah ter tell yuh all.” 
And he tried to borrow a pipe from one of his pals. 

“An’ whar’s thet fly that wuz on yuh nose, nigger?” laffing- 
ly inquired Memphis Pete of High-step Tom, the mulatto who 
acted as their spokesman. 

“Golly, boys! but I seed thet thar bullet go plum straight 
thru Mr. Fly,” laffed Cairo Bob, as he felt of High-step’s flyless 
proboscis. Then they all shuddered and laffed as only negroes can. 

“It would sure be safer to tackle a passel o’ wildcats than 
them two musishuners,” sagely observed Hickman Charley, a rath¬ 
er quiet and mild-looking black, who limped a little on the left side. 
“Dis nigger’s in fer mindin’ his own bizness the hereafter,” con¬ 
tinued Charley, and the others all agreed that Charles was about 
right. “More niggers gets into trouble foolin’ wid der whites than 
any udder way,” concluded Charley. 

“Uh-huh!” was the only response and it came from four mouths 
at the same time. 

The girls had a big laff and then resumed their music, to the 
delight of the birds. They had no fear the negroes would return, 
and knew they could take care of themselves if they did. 

The Old Farmer and his wife and one girl, a granddauter, 
made up the family of the farmer with whom they passed the first 
night. The Old Folks were pleased to have two such beautiful and 
distinguished guests honor them, and it didn’t take the Old Lady 
and the girl Irene and an old colored Mammy long to have a de¬ 
lightful and appetizing supper ready. It consisted of fried spring 
chicken, new potatoes and peas, corn bread, butter, and strawber¬ 
ries and cream. The youngsters were hungry after their long and 
happy ride and meager noon lunch; so they enjoyed it fully and 
were soon at home and chatting in the easy and well-bred manner 
of educated people whose environment was congenial. The Old 
Folks were certainly astonished when they learned that two such 
young ladies were undertaking such an unheard-of journey without 
attendants; but the girls only smiled and assured their hosts that 
they would get home all right and rather enjoyed the novelty of it. 

“But there are so many worthless niggers runnin’ thru the 


100 


RED KLOVER . 


country,” protested the Old Farmer, and a look of anxiety spread 
over his kind old face. 

“Yes; we had the pleasure of an informal meeting with a bunch 
of five blacks at noon to-day while we were quietly eating our lunch 
and plaving a little on our instruments out under a big walnut tree 
on the banks of the creek back there,” quietly smiled Keldora; “but 
after I shot a fly off the leader’s nose at about thirty yards and 
Zenda snipped a pipe out of a black mouth with her six-shooter, our 
would-be visitors concluded they didn’t care for white company any 
way, so they vamoosed without even stopping to make their adieus.” 

“Why, they didn’t even leave their addresses, in case we might 
want to correspond with them,” cut in Zenda with her biting sar¬ 
casm, that was as unerring as her bullets. 

“Heavens! mother, we must get out a posse and capture the 
black rascals!” stormed the Old Man, whose Southern blood was 
already near the boiling-point. 

“Oh! it’s not necessary, Mr. McHenry, I assure you. They 
were only a few ignorant and impudent niggers and didn’t do a bit 
of harm; why, we even enjoyed teaching them a little lesson in 
racial politeness,” continued Keldora. 

“Well, you’re sure all a brave lot,” commented Mrs. McHenry. 

After supper they all hied themselves out on the bluegrass 
lawn, and the girls, feeling good and in a musical mood, unslung 
their instruments and proceeded to play and sing, to the delight 
and utter astonishment of the McHenrys and Irene. Irene was 
also no mean musician, and when the girls encouraged her to sing 
with them, she was delighted, and their voices all harmonized to¬ 
gether perfectly. In less than an hour Irene was crazy about Kel¬ 
dora and Zenda, and the McHenrys were not much behind in their 
admiration of the guests so strangely come to their doors. 

“Such music, mother, is worth hearing!” exclaimed McHenry 
to his wife after they had sung and played about ten minutes. 

“It certainly is, pap!” enthusiastically returned his wife,with 
a look of tender and motherly love in her dear old Irish eyes as she 
looked at the girls and watched them as they performed so easily 
and gracefully and with such feeling and expression. 

The full moon slowly arose out of the mountains of eastern 
Tennessee, it seemed, and lazily dreamed along over the State in all 
its full-orbed beauty and yellow glory. It was a night for song and 
poetry, for love and living, and the spirit of the night seemed to 
swim in the girls’ blood, and they played on and on with an easy 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. ioi 

abandon and all oblivious of Time. The night was so perfect and 
balmy the girls decided to just shake down in their blankets out 
in the front yard on the soft and inviting bluegrass—man’s pri¬ 
meval bed. Irene also brought out a quilt and some blankets and 
Keldora and Zenda cuddled her up between them, and soon the 
trio were drifting away in Dreamland’s Fair Arcadia, and did not 
realize that another day had dawned until they were awakened by 
Aunt Liza’s deep and sonorous voice exclaiming: 

“You chilluns sure’ll miss your brekfus if you all ain’t up this 
blessed minute!” 

“Awh! Aunt Liza, what you all go and wake us for so early?” 
sleepily droned Irene as she crept into Keldora’s arms and snug¬ 
gled up like a cold kitten to a warm stove in February. Keldora 
loved and mothered the motherless girl for a few minutes, and they 
all jumped up and made ready for breakfast—an ample repast of 
strawberries and cream, smearcase, fried chicken and new potatoes, 
honey and buckwheat cakes, and real coffee. Everything was just 
right, for Aunt Liza was carried away by their music the evening 
before, and had laid herself out to prepare a meal suitable to such 
extraordinary guests. And when this good old black soul cooked 
for those she loved, it was sure to be a real meal. 

Irene was only twelve, but rather advanced for her age, and it 
was sure a disappointment for her to say “Good-bye” to the girls 
next morning. She was the life and hope of the Old Folks, and the 
only child of their only dauter, who had been dead seven years. 

Irene had a fine pony all her very own and was very fond of 
riding and all out-door sports. Their nearest town was a small 
village near the Kentucky line and about nine miles distant, and 
she soon gained the consent of “Grampum,” as she called Mr. Mc¬ 
Henry, to ride over as far as the village with the girls. This would 
ever be an event in Irene’s life; and the three girls did make a beau¬ 
tiful picture as they proudly cantered away together that perfect 
June day. 

Mr. McHenry was almost insulted when Keldora offered to pay 
for their meals, etc. “Did they think he was a Yankee from the 
North?” That settled it. It was hard for the girls to spend any 
money, for everyone fell in love with them and was anxious to en¬ 
tertain them. 

They all stopped in the little village and watered their horses, 
and then Keldora treated to ice cream and Zenda bought a box of 
candy for Irene to take home and also enuff of a bright and highly 


102 


RED KLOVER. 


colored pattern of calico for Aunt Liza a new dress. Then they 
bade Irene good-bye, and sauntered away toward the north. 

The next three nights were spent in Kentucky and at farm 
homes, where they were received and entertained like queens. Their 
polite and gentle breeding and divine music opened all doors to 
them. The fifth day out they reached Paducah about 5 o’clock in 
the evening, and put their horses in the best and cleanest livery 
stable they could find, and then proceeded to the principal hotel— 
the old Palmer House. After supper they attended the theater, 
and enjoyed a good performance by a good company. It was Fri¬ 
day evening when they arrived in Paducah, and they decided to re¬ 
main over till Monday before resuming their journey. They want¬ 
ed to see more of the theater and the bright lights; besides, they 
were in no hurry anyway. 

After breakfast they strolled into the parlor of the hostelry 
and were delighted to find a really good piano and almost new—a 
fine old square Chickering—and it was in tune, too. Keldora seated 
herself at the instrument, and soon both girls were singing some 
highbrow songs that soon brot an audience to the parlor and 
coridors. Among their listeners were the manager of the show and 
two of his warblers, and to say that they were astonished and de¬ 
lighted would be putting it mildly. They were crazy about the 
girls and the way they could play. The manager introduced him¬ 
self and several members of the company to the girls and politely 
asked if they desired an engagement. 

“Oh, no!” laffed Keldora; “we. are just a couple of green 
country school-girls on our way home from college in Nashville, and 
our people live in the country down in the Ozarks of Missouri and 
Arkansas.” 

“We just play a little for our own amusement,” corroborated 
Zenda, with that polite sarcasm of hers. 

“I wish I might have the pleasure of hearing such music every 
day,” quietly chipped in a refined and musical voice that had a fa¬ 
miliar sound to it. Keldora wheeled around to see who had thus 
addressed her, and there stood, with his hat in hand and politely 
bowing to the girls, the Supreme Court judge who had bet a thou¬ 
sand dollars on Keldora’s Prince at the State fair and, after win¬ 
ning the bet from the Governor, had turned the amount over to 
Keldora—refusing to keep the money. 

“Why, Judge! This is an unexpected pleasure indeed;” and 
she cordially extended her dainty white hand toward him and re- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 103 

ceived his hearty hand-shake in return. “And this is my little 
chum and college-mate. Miss Zenda Woodbine, of Arkansas,” smiled 
Keldora as she presented her chum to the Justice. 

After the introductions were over, Zenda just had to fire one 
of her high-range shots that always brought down the biggest game: 
“Your honor, have you attended the races lately?” 

And then they all three had a jolly good laff, and “His Honor” 
asked permission to bring his wife to call on the girls, after which 
he wanted them to be their guests during their stay in Paducah. 
The girls promptly invited him to bring the missus in time to be 
their guests at luncheon at the hotel, and then they would dine 
with the Justice and his wife. This pleased the Justice very much 
and he soon returned with his wife, a rather young woman (about 
twenty-seven) and a very courteous and charming lady of broad and 
liberal mind. After luncheon the girls got their instruments and 
played and sang for about an hour, and the Judge’s wife did the 
piano part of it—and did it well, too, for she was a finished mu¬ 
sician, and the Judge had a fine bass voice that could hold its own 
almost any place. The parlor and corridors soon became so packed 
that it was impossible to get thru. They were getting too much 
notoriety, so the girls invited the Judge and his wife to be their 
guests at the matinee that afternoon, and that night the Judge and 
his wife entertained the girls with a box party at the theater. They 
were having the time of their lives, and when it was found that 

they were the guests of Judge B-, everybody wanted to meet 

them. At the theater that night the audience had learned in some 
mysterious way who the Judge’s guests were, and after the curtain 
went down on the second act there was a perfect storm of calls for 
“Miss Storm and Miss Woodbine!” and every glass in the vast au¬ 
dience was leveled at the girls in Judge B-’s box. The manager 

of the company came out and beckoned for them to respond, but 
they shook their heads and tried to hide behind the draperies. It 
wouldn’t go with the audience, and the Mayor came in the box with 
the managers of the company and the theater and, after being pre¬ 
sented to Keldora and Zenda, they begged them on behalf of the 
audien c e to honor such a magnificent compliment to themselves. 

Judge B-and his wife also joined in the request. Then the 

girls both made a little run and jump from the rail of the box and 
landed on the stage like a couple of young panthers, and did it so 
easily and gracefully that it brot down the house. After bowing 
their acknowledgments to the audience, they asked for a banjo and 




104 


RED KLOVER. 


a guitar, and members of the company handed them two very fine 
and silver-mounted instruments, and the “supers” had placed a 
couple of chairs for them. The girls turned themselves loose and 
played with the old inspired passion in such a masterly way the au¬ 
dience just went wild; then they responded with some of their own 
woodland songs they had composed down in the Ozarks and that, as 
Keldora explained, they used to sing in serenading the birds. And 
ioh, with what wild and vine-tangled beauty and primeval passion 
they did sing and act! All the wild beauty and soft, gentle ten¬ 
derness and passion of the hills and woods, the trees and tan¬ 
gled vines and flowers, the birds and bees, the perfume of all the 
wild flowers, and the gurgling sweetness of the rippling mountain 
brooks, and the wordless alto of the new-mown hay, and the seolian 
aurevoirness of the Southwind —all seemed to be singing and dream¬ 
ing in their wonderful voices at the same time. Like all true art¬ 
ists, they forgot themselves — time and place — everything —and 
only their dear old native hills — the eternal and forgetless 
Ozarks—were with them and embracing them in their wild and all- 
enfolding arms. The audience simply gasped and sat entranced — 
the entire company came out in the wings and listened like hypno¬ 
tized birds. And when they switched into the “ Arkansaw Traveler” 
and wound up with “Dixie,” as only they could play those immor¬ 
tal pieces, the audience just simply went wild and tossed their hats 
and anything else that was loose up in the air and continued to yell 
and kept it up for quite awhile after the next act had begun. 

Chapter XX. 

KELDORA AND ZENDA IN A NEW SAMARITAN ACT. 

After the evening performance Saturday night, the girls went 
to the hotel and got their instruments and luggage and then ac¬ 
companied the Judge and his wife to the jurist’s suburban home, 
where they remained as his guests until the following Tuesday. 
When they asked for their bill at the hotel, the manager politely 
informed them that they did not owe the hostelry a cent, and that 
more than twenty prominent people had called at the hotel and 
begged the privilege of paying their score. This touched the girls 
deeply and the look of gratitude they returned the manager was 
ample remuneration as far as he was concerned; besides, the man¬ 
ager and his wife were both musicians, and they enjoyed the treat 
so highly they considered it an honor to have such guests with them. 

In those good old days, and especially in the Southland, dollar- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 105 

chasing was unknown. The Jews did not own and control every 
thing like they do to-day. 

Sunday was a happy and memorable day out at the jurist’s 
magnificent home, and in the afternoon the girls and the Judge- 
and his wife took a horseback jaunt around Paducah and the ad¬ 
jacent country. The Judge and his wife were fond of riding and 
had splendid mounts. 

The girls intended to resume their homeward journey Monday 
morning, but were persuaded by their host and hostess to remain 
over till Tuesday in order to be the guests of honor at a reception 
at the Judge’s home Monday night. The elite and cream of Pa¬ 
ducah’s musical and literary set were bidden to the feast, and came 
with bells on, so to speak; and oh, such a night of music and good- 
fellowship 1 

Late Tuesday forenoon Keldora and Zenda bade their new 
friends good-bye and headed for the ferry and were soon cantering 
gaily and happily thru Illinois toward Cape Girardeau, Missouri, 
where they would cross the Mississippi into their beloved old Mis¬ 
souri. But they were destined to be delayed before reaching Mis¬ 
souri. About 3 o’clock on the afternoon of the third day up in 
Illinois, and right at the edge of the wide Mississippi bottom, which 
is about seven miles wide, and over which the water plays havoc 
during flood years, they turned into a rather dilapidated-looking 
farm-house to water their horses and to make some inquiries about 
the way across the bottom, which 'was yet partly filled with water 
from the late receding flood. They were greeted by the fierce bark¬ 
ing of a couple of mongrel dogs and the intermittent groans and 
screams of a woman in deep distress. 

“We must investigate this, 4 ’ positively exclaimed Keldora, and 
both girls jumped down and ran to the door and knocked loudly, 
A weak and distracted voice bade them to enter. A young woman, 
who appeared to be about twenty-two or twenty-three years old, was 
tossing and moaning on a bed that was disheveled to the last degree. 

“Oh! Oh! Mercy! Help me!*’ she moaned piteously, and 
then her whole frame seemed to draw up, and she let out another 
stifled groan and scream, and tried to stuff the sheet in her mouth 
to stifle her agonies. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” kindly eooed Keldora, with all the 
mother-love of her great soul ebbing out of her glorious eyes, and 
at the same time she placed her warm and magnetic hand on the 
poor creature’s brow and tried to soothe her. 


RED KLOVER. 


106 


“Oh! Oh! I’m—I’m—having a—baby!” she moaned and 
gasped between moans; “but you’re just young girls” she con¬ 
tinued, “and won’t understand nor know what to do. Oh! what 
shall Jl do? Oh! Oh! Where’s Bob?” And again the awful pains 
gripped her, and she tried bravely to stifle the moans that shook 
her like an aspen leaf. 

“Is Bob your husband?” timidly ventured Zenda. 

“Yes, oh, yes! but why he don’t come I don’t know!” and 
she softly cried between her moans. 

“Where is your husband?” asked Keldora with a trace of im¬ 
patience in her fine voice. “He surely ought to be here.” 

“I—I didn’t expect to be sick for about two weeks yet, and 
when the awful pains suddenly took me at dinner to-day, Bob went 
out to the pasture to catch Jumper, our new horse that he recently 
traded for, and said he’d hurry to town for the doctor and stop at 
Sam Benson’s and tell his wife to come right over and stay with 
me till the doctor and Bob got here. But he hasn’t got back yet, 
and no one’s been near me. You see, we live so far back from the 
main road no one could hear me if I screamed my head off.” Then 
the awful pains doubled her up again, and she moaned and yelled 
as before. 

“Perhaps some accident has befallen your husband,” ventured 
Zenda again. “Where is the pasture? I’ll go and see if I can find 
him, and Keldora will remain with you and help all she can.” 

After being told where to go, Zenda was off like a wild pigeon, 
and soon found the pasture and three horses peacefully cropping 
the abundant grass and fighting the flies co-operatively. Then she 
heard a groan over toward the south side of the pasture and hur¬ 
ried thither. She found Bob all right enuff—or rather, what was 
left of the poor devil. His right leg was broken in two places and 
his left arm badly dislocated and his face badly bruised and covered 
with dried blood. He had returned to consciousness about an hour 
before, he told her, and cried for help till he was exhausted, and 
then tried to crawl to the house, but found he was unable to do so. 

“For God’s sake, get me some water!” he begged, and then 
sank back and moaned. 

Here was a pretty pickle indeed. The girls thot they had seen 
trouble before, but this was the worst ever. However, they were 
not a bit rattled like most girls would have been, and set to work 
as best they could to help these helpless and unfortunate creatures. 

“Water! Water!” repeated Bob Thorp piteously. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


107 


“All right; 'I’ll get it for you and be right back,” cried Zenda, 
and she sprinted away toward the house like a fat man running to 
catch a street car that has about half a block the start of him. Zen¬ 
da soon reached the house, and after briefly explaining the situa¬ 
tion to Keldora, she found a bucket and tin cup and filled the buck¬ 
et with water from a near-by well, and hurried back to Bob; and 
oh, how the poor devil did drink—and drink! It seemed he would 
never get enuff. Then he sank back and soon drifted off into a 
merciful sleep. Zenda arranged some twigs and leaves over his 
face for shade and to keep the flies away from his wounds, and then 
she hurried back to the house to consult with Keldora. When she 
arrived at the house, -the baby was a citizen of Illinois and Keldora 
had it in a dishpan of water and was washing it as tho she had been 
a nurse all her life. She had seen her mother and some of their na- 
bors perform this simple rite of ablution a number of times; besides, 
Keldora and Zenda had carefully studied two large works on ob¬ 
stetrics while in college, besides a number of other doctor-books 
that had been brought to the college by girls whose fathers or broth¬ 
ers were physicians; so they were by no means greenies. They 
knew just what to do and how to go about it. This knowledge 
came in handy now. 

The baby was a lusty little rascal and had a good pair of lungs, 
and from the noise he was making one might think he was an I. 
W. W. protesting against the injustices of his environment. 

As this was Mrs. Thorp’s first stunt in the baby line, she had 
very few baby clothes and other arrangements prepared. This 
didn’t daunt Dr. Keldora in the least—she knew how to meet and 
overcome obstacles. She found a clean pillowslip and cut a hole 
in the center of its bottom just big enuff for the baby’s head to 
get thru, and then at each side she cut holes for its tiny arms. Then 
she and Zenda put him in his first dress and tied the bottom to¬ 
gether so he couldn’t wiggle and kick out of it. Then they laid 
him back beside his mother, and got busy again. She was resting 
quietly and inclined to sleep. 

They briefly explained that Bob had caught Jumper and jumped 
on him in the field and intended to thus ride him back to the barn 
without a saddle or bridle. This might have worked all right, but 
Bob had some sandburs on the inside legs of his trousers and these 
ticklish little things stung Jumper right in the flanks, where he was 
most sensitive and ticklish, and as Jumper was a rather high-strung 
animal and inclined to temperament, he resented it by showing Rob- 


RED KLOVER. 


108 

ert. a few stunts in high and lofty jumping and tumbling. Bob tum¬ 
bled all right, and was unconscious for about two hours from the 
effects of the way he fell—partly on his head and shoulders. It 
didn’t matter to Jumper whether he was unconscious or only dead. 
No one could play jokes on Jumper and get away with it. The 
man from whom Bob got Jumper had warned him that the critter 
was a little nervous and “skittish” at times. 

“Damn him! I’ll take that all out of him,” was Rbert’s only 
eomment. 

“All right; see that you do,” was his laconic rejoier. 

They knew that Bob would probably sleep for several hours, 
but realized that he must have prompt attention. Zenda was dis¬ 
patched on Wingie to Benson’s, about four miles to the north, to 
tell them to go to town at once for a doctor, and for Mrs. Benson 
to come over and help Mrs. Thorp. Keldora remained and lookd 
after Ethel {Mrs. Thorp) and the youngster. It didn’t take Wingie 
long to cover the short distance to the Benson farm, but no one 
was at home; so she rode like the wind to the town about five 
miles further on, but when she got there she was informed that Dr, 
Rabe had gone to Cairo the preceding Saturday and hadn’t yet re¬ 
turned—“And most likely won’t for a week or longer,” supplied 
a bystander, with a sly wink at the barber. 

“Where’s another doctor?” hurriedly asked the girl. 

“This hyar blamed ol’ town just ain’t never had no such thing 
as another doc,” laughed the same buttinsky. “But Rabe’ll turn 
up when he absorbs all ther booze in Cairo, I reckon,” continued 
her informant, facetiously. 

Zenda ran across the street to a primitive drug store and hur¬ 
riedly made a few purchases, then she jumped in the saddle and 
showed the gawking natives how to get a move on. When she got 
back Ethel was quietly sleeping, and as Thorp, Jr., had found where 
they kept the milk, he wasn’t worrying a bit about this world and 
its teeming troubles. 

The girls hurriedly made a litter out of a couple of hoop-poles 
and some pieces of rope, and then hurried to the field to bring in 
Bob. He was just coming out of his deep and refreshing sleep and 
wanted more water. They soon had him in the house and on a 
cot they improvised for the occasion, as the house only afforded 
one bed and the missus had to have that. They first reduced the 
dislocated shoulder joint and this gave immediate relief. Then 
they set the broken femur bone and the fractured tibia, and made 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


109 


some splints out of some weatherboards ripped from the smoke¬ 
house and some shingles from the roof, and with the aid of the few 
articles Zenda was thotful enough to bring from town, and some 
bandages they made from sheets and pillowslips, they soon had 
“Reckless Robert,” as they afterward named him, trussed up in 
real style. As they had no plaster of Paris to use on the limbs, 
they packed them solid in the good old Illinois gumbo, and bade 
him to be perfectly quiet, and they would soon have him up and 
kicking again. Then they washed his face and hands and dressed 
faee and scalp wounds, and bade him to sleep and be quiet. 

“But who are you girls?” he wanted to know, as he gave them 
a look of deep gratitude. 

“Never mind that now,” cautioned Zenda, “for you are too 
weak and exhausted to talk or even listen. You’re the father of 
a fine boy, and the youngster and his mother are all right and rest¬ 
ing nicely, and that’s all you’re to be told to-night.” 

“Well, I’m sure grateful to you folks, whoever you are, and 
I’m going to do just as you say.” And soon “Reckless Robert” was 
sleeping easily again. 

The girls were tired out after all this excitement and nervous 
tension, and after milking the two cows and drinking some of the 
rich milk, they took turns at sleeping out in the yard on the grass 
and their own blankets, and turns at sitting up and watching their 
patients and waiting on them. They were astir early next morning, 
and did the milking, killed a chicken, and soon had a tempting lit¬ 
tle breakfast prepared. Bob sure had some appetite, and while 
Zenda fed him and eased him a little to make him more comfort¬ 
able Keldora served breakfast to Ethel and administered to her 
needs, and then she fished Junior out of his pillowslip Mother Hub¬ 
bard and washed him and tossed him up in her hands a few times 
and showed him to his dad, who just gasped and exclaimed: 

“Wal, I’ll be dam—I beg pardon, miss, but I meant dinged!” 

“Yes, Robert, you must not swear while we have company,” 
gently warned his wife. 

Then the girls fell to and enjoyed their breakfast, after which 
they went to work and cleaned up the place and put everything to 
rights, and it was hardly recognizable when they completed their 
work. Then they got out their instruments and serenaded their 
patients for about an hour; and to say that the Thorps were, de¬ 
lighted would be putting it mildly. Then the girls briefly explained 
who they were and how they came to be there. 


IIO 


RED KLOVER. 


“Well, I’ll be—!” 

“Robert!” warned Ethel again, just in time. 

It developed that the Thorps had only been married about a 
year and had come out there from Indiana. They had no rela¬ 
tives in Illinois, and few nabors; in fact, the country was sparsely 
settled in those days, and the houses were often miles apart. 

“We’d a all died, I reckon, if you folks hadn’t just happened 
along when you did,” observed Bob that evening after supper. 

“And I don’t know how we’re ever going to pay you for what 
you’ve done,” sadly mused Mrs. Thorp, with a look of gratitude 
toward Keldora, who was tossing Junior up in her hands and coo¬ 
ing to him like a real little mother. 

“Never mind about that,” returned Keldora, with a sweet and 
cheerful smile. “You all don’t owe us anything yet and are not 
likely to ever do so.” 

“It’s a part of our religion to help our fellow-men and do all 
the good we can,” added Zenda, with an optimistic look at them 
both. 

“We’re in no hurry, and as duty has assigned us a little work 
here, we shall remain and see you all safely thru,” assured Keldora 
in that sedative voice of hers. 

Keldora rode over to the town the next day and bought gro¬ 
ceries, dress goods and other materials needed in the Thorp home, 
and then the girls fell to and it wasn’t long until they had new 
sheets, pillowslips, towels, etc., and a new dress for Ethel and a 
house-wrapper and cloth slippers for her to wear about the house; 
and Junior soon had some sure-enuff baby clothes, and the little 
rascal was never so happy as when the girls were playing with 
him. He grew and thrived like a jimpson weed in August; and 
the third day Ethel was able to be up and knock around some; 
in a week she was all right; and as Bob was getting well as rapid¬ 
ly as possible, a new light seemed to o’erspread the whole place. 
And oh, what a boon the music was to them all! 

The girls remained two weeks, until all the danger was past 
and they had carefully coached the Thorps in the principles of 
health and showed Ethel how to dress Bob’s wounds and care for 
him, and then one bright Wednesday morning they proceeded on 
their way. Just before departing, Keldora slipped two one-hun- 
dred-dollar bills under Ethel’s pillow, where she would find them 
that night—“For the poor devils are hard up and it will be such 
a help to them,” explained the girl to her pal. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . in 

“I’m so glad you did it, dear, for it would have been so hard 
on them to be thus left without a dollar, and Ethel told me they 
had got down to their last fifty-cent piece,” said Zenda in her soft 
and soothing Ozark voice. 

They reached Cape Girardeau about noon, and on learning that 
a big theatrical attraction was billed for that night, they decided 
to remain over till the next day. They stopped at a hotel, and 
carefully regained from playing and singing any, as they wished 
to avoid all notoriety and just simply wanted to rest and relax. 

Chapter XXI. 

A BEAR EPISODE AND SOME SHOOTING. 

They greatly enjoyed their rest and stop in the Cape, and the 
following morning departed toward the southwest. They attracted a 
lot of attention in the Cape anyway, on account of their rare beau¬ 
ty and sweet, graceful ways. Several of the Cape’s beaux dropped 
in at the hotel and scanned the register, but all they found was 
“K. Storm, Mo.,” and “Z. Woodbine, Ark.”—nothing very inviting 
nor romantic about that. 

The next morning when they called at the stable for their nags, 
they observed a well-dressed and distinctly Southern gentleman 
who bore the imprint of Mississippi so plainly in his dress and man¬ 
ners it would be impossible not to place him at a glance. He was 
tall and had a quiet and dignified way about him that bespoke the 
master. When the nags were brot out and the girls about to 
vault into the saddles, he approached Keldora politely and removed 
his wide white hat and bowed courteously as he inquired: 

“I beg pardon, miss, but is that pony for sale?” 

“No, indeed,” laffed Keldora; “he’s my wings—*my pal and 
comrade, and neither one could live without the other,” and shp 
laid her pretty head over against Prince’s face and patted his proud 
and arched neck. Prince gave the Mississippian a hostile look 
that was both a challenge and good-bye. 

“I’m a great admirer of fine hosses,” easily went on the Colo¬ 
nel, “and I should just love to take that fine little rascal home 
with me for Harold—my only grandson,” explained the gentleman; 
“but I don’t blame you for not wanting to part with him;” and 
the Colonel reached over to give Prince a pat on the nose but the 
pony landed first, and a bit of the Colonel’s coat sleeve was between 
his gleaming teeth. “Zounds!” roared the astonished and irate man, 
“but he is a vicious brute!” 


112 


RED KLOVER. 


“Oh, no,^Colonel! not that bad. He understood that you de¬ 
sired to separate us, and then he always resents strangers who try 
to get acquainted with him without a proper introduction; in fact, 
he is a very blue-blooded and exclusive animal and is full of what 
you might call‘temperament,’ ” responded Keldora; and the crowd 
of bystanders gave the Colonel a big horse-laff as the girls lightly 
vaulted into their saddles and started off down the main thorofare 
of the town. 

“Well, shiver my timbers!” exclaimed an old river-man as he 
silently gazed after the girls as they rapidly disappeared down the 
street, “but if they ain’t a pair of nifty yachts I never seed any 
afore, and I’ve been up and down the old river for more’n fifty 
year!” 

“ Colonel, I understand you’re in the market for a gentle pony? ” 
facetiously inquired the liveryman, as the Colonel started to walk 
away. 

“Ah! go to—St. Louis!” roared the irate man, and he walked 
on without uttering another word. 

The girls covered about thirty-five miles that day, and tied up 
at a farm-house for the night. During the night an awful commo¬ 
tion and uproar was heard out in the cow-pen down under the hill, 
and as the girls were bunking out in the yard in their blankets and 
a couple of bearskins their host placed at their disposal, they de¬ 
cided to investigate it themselves and not alarm the family. They 
jumped up and with their rifles and six-talkers hurried down to the 
corral just in time to see a huge black bear killing a three-months 
old calf, and its mother frantically bellowing and rapidly walking 
around the bear and her slain offspring. 

“Oh, ho, Mr. Bear! Buying a calf without money!” exclaimed 
Zenda, and before Keldora had time to act, Zenda fired a shot from 
her rifle that promptly settled Bruin. The huge and fierce-looking 
beast gave a few violent kicks and then gasped a few times and 
was no more. 

The poor distressed cow ran up and proceeded to lick her dead 
offspring and to moo-oo over it like a mother does when her baby 
is hurt. Keldora sidled up to the cow and gently put her arms 
around the poor distressed critter’s neck and tried to soothe and 
comfort her, and after the poor old soul realized that her baby was 
gone forever, she turned around and proceeded to lick Keldora and 
tried to mother the girls in her bovine way. The girls both petted 
her and soothed her, and she walked away with them up where the 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 113 

gate was, and they let her out and she followed them up to the front 
yard, and after moo-oo-ing a few times and looking back toward 
where her child lay dead, she rubbed her nose against them and 
tried to mother them awhile, and then she lay down on the soft 
grass near them and moaned gently thruout the night. The old 
critter was astir early next morning and waked the girls trying to 
love and mother them, and then she walked down to the corral 
gate and gazed in silence and longing at her dead—and her dear 
old eyes were wet and leaky with maternal tears. 

The girls attended to their ponies, and soon the whole family 
were astir. 

When the Kelvies learned of their guests’ daring exploit, their 
admiration knew no bounds. 

“My sakes alive! but wasn’t you all afeard to death?” ex¬ 
claimed Mother Kelvle at breakfast. 

“We were raised in the Ozarks,” explained Zenda, “and don’t 
scare very easily—especially by bears and wildcats.” 

“I think I’ve killed about six bears and eleven bobs,” care¬ 
lessly announced Keldora, as tho she.were only speaking of slaying 
chickens or swatting flies. 

“I haven’t kept much account of the varmints I’ve killed,” 
laffed Zenda; “but one time when I was thirteen I was out over the 
mountain after the cows, and a big cinnamon bear almost got me. 
He was about fifty feet away when I discovered him, and he said: 
‘Hoi’ on, little gal; I want to talk to you.’ I ’lowed he hadn’t 
nuthin’ much ter say that’d interest me, so I just pulled er bead 
on him and let go; but the cap was a little damp and it didn’t go; 
but old Mr. Cinnamon was sure goin’ some—and right in my di¬ 
rection, too; but the second time I pulled the trigger it boomed 
like the crack o’ doom, and Mr. Cin. was not traveling any more.” 

The way Zenda got this off in the local patois of the Ozarks 
was irresistible, and the whole family just roared and said she was 
the real sport, “without a pinch o’ yaller,” as the old man put it. 

The Kelvies were from Arkansaw, and when they learned that 
Zenda was a native of that State, Ned, the eldest boy, and who was 
just about the same age as the girls, wanted to elope with her right 
then and there. They just laffed at him, and told him he was 
too young to think of such serious matters. The girls had both 
had many splendid opportunities to marry while in Nashville and 
again in Paducah; but they hadn’t yet found the right one, it seemed. 

The Kelvies skinned the bear and wanted to give the hide to 


1*4 


RED KLOVER . 


Zenda, but she told them they had so many of them at home it 
wouldn’t be worth while. 

Before they departed the next morning, they unslung their in¬ 
struments and played a few of the old mountain airs and folk-songs 
so loved thruout the Southland. 

A look of pain and mortification swept over Mr. Kelvie’s fine 
old Scotch face when they asked how much they owed for their 
meals, etc. 

“Why, pap, do they think we’re Yankees?” and poor Ned 
looked distressed. 

The whole family tried to persuade them to prolong their stay 
and they would call in the liabors and have a real old-time bear- 
hunt and barn-dance; but they decided to go on, and rode away 
in the sunlight to another adventure before reaching home. 

They rode about thirty miles that day and over some very 
ruff country; but a little after 5 o’clock that beautiful June even¬ 
ing they came out on a high bluff overlooking the White River and 
its wide and beautiful valley. It was about three miles from the 
bluff to the river; and nestling down near the wide sweep of rich 
bottom land, and on the west bank of a pretty and picturesque 
little mountain brook that quietly tumbled out of the deep ravine 
and then hurried on to keep its engagement with the river, was 
one of those big, lofty and roomy Colonial mansions of the old 
planter days style. It had big friendly porches running around it 
from ail sides, and on the east, south and west sides rose-bushes 
and morning glories were interwoven into a latticed arbor and made 
an ideal bower for the birds to sing and play in. These vines were 
just thick enough to make a good shade and yet permit the South- 
wind to play hookey in and out between its leaves and blossoms. 
It was sure a place to rest and dream—to live and love. It was a 
romantic and historic old structure that was a part of the history 
and romance of the Old Days in the Ozarks. It was the kind of a 
home that only a man of wealth and culture would build and in¬ 
habit. 

“Oh, look down there at that Dream Place!” exclaimed Keldora 
as soon as her eyes caught sight of it. 

“Yes, indeed, and that’s just where these two Gipsies intend 
to pitch camp for the night—and maybe longer,” was Zenda’s enthu¬ 
siastic rejoinder. 

“I am curious to know who inhabits it,” continued Keldora as 


THE OUTLAW AND SUE FRA JET. 115 

she adjusted her telescope to her eyes and proceeded to scan it in 
true military style. 

“Evidently some wealthy planter, who believes in living and 
who has taste and is educated and cultured,” added Zenda after a 
further survey of the place thru their field-glass. 

And they were right in their diagnosis, as usual. It was the 
home of the fiery and proud old Captain Morgan Vancefield, a 
rich and eccentric river captain and planter and slave-owner on a 
large scale. He was born down on the White River, and his father 
came out to these wilds more than sixty years ago as the best way 
to terminate a long-enduring feud back in South Carolina. The 
Captain had plied the Mississippi, Ohio, and White rivers for more 
than thirty years, and made a big fortune by some lucky invest¬ 
ments, and found the present place in one of his hunting trips along 
thfc White River, and was so taken with its natural beauty that he 
decided to get the land and several thousand adjoining acres and 
lay out a typical plantation on which to pass his declining years far 
away from the turmoil and hypocrisy of the cities. His wife had 
been a famous belle and beauty in her day, and also a noted violinist 
and contralto and no mean artist. The Captain in his earlier days 
had played the fiddle for the old country dances and the impromptu 
hops on his own boats. The Captain was a dead shot with the rifle 
or pistol, and feared neither God, man nor the devil. There were 
only two things that could make the dauntless Captain grow goose, 
flesh—a rattlesnake and the yellow fever. To fight bob-cats, bear, 
alligators and his own species was only recreation. He was a first- 
rate wrestler and boxer in his younger days, and never so happy 
as when Hell was a~poppin\ And when it came to the use of pro¬ 
fanity, Captain Vancefield was a real artist—was away up in the 
Rembrandt class, and could swear in colors that would make Ru¬ 
bens and the rainbow look like kindergarten pikers. He had a son, 
Walden Ramsay Vancefield, and a beautiful and charming dauter, 
Pauline Eugenia Vancefield. The son was just twenty-five and the 
dauter twenty, and they were both chips off the old blocks, and their 
parents were very proud of them, but had never spoiled them. They 
were^ talented in music and art, and had been taught many useful 
things. 

The Captain owned more than a hundred black slaves and their 
neat little cabins dotted the river bank for miles. The Vancefields 
were noted for their pride and wealth and broad, liberal ways. They 
were good to their slaves, and the Captain had often told them that 


n6 


RED KLOVER . 


if they were dissatisfied he would free them and they might leave 
if they wished to. Only one ever sought his freedom in this way, 
and after about seven months up in central and eastern Missouri, 
he voluntarily returned to the Captain’s and announced that he 
was satisfied to stay among real white folks like the Vancefields. 

The girls rode down the bluff in a winding and round-about 
way, and soon came to the big entrance gate and then rode up to 
the front of the mansion and greeted the Captain himself, who was 
dozing and-trying to read on the wide veranda. 

“Good evening, sir,” pleasantly greeted both the girls at once. 
“We have ridden far to-day and seek shelter for the night.” 

“Bless my eyes, if it isn’t two beautiful young girls!” boomed 
the Captain in the old river days style. “To be sure, young la¬ 
dies; ’light and rest your saddles. My home is at your service.” 
And the aged man straightened up like the old chief that he was 
and summoned a couple of negro lads that were loitering near and 
ordered their horses to be taken to the barn and given the best of 
care. 

“ I am Miss Keldora Storm, of the Ozarks in southern Missouri, 
and this is my chum and school-mate, Miss Zenda Woodbine, of 
Arkansas. We are returning home from a three-year stay in school 
in Nashville,” quietly explained Keldora in her rich and refined 
musical voice, which always gained her immediate attention and 
obedience. 

“I’m Captain Morgan Vancefield,” announced the Captain in 
his most dignified manner, “and I am flattered to have such dis¬ 
tinguished guests to honor my home with their presence,” con¬ 
tinued the Captain in real Eeau Brummel fashion. “ Bray be seated, 
and I’ll have your presence announced to Mrs. Vancefield and my 
dauter, Pauline. Here, Maggie, run along and summon your mis¬ 
tress and Miss Pauline, and say that we have company and for them 
to come at onqe.” 

Mrs. Vancefield and Pauline soon appeared and looked their 
astonishment when they discovered that their guests were total 
strangers and bore every mark of being young women of good breed¬ 
ing and culture. The Captain rose' and gallantly presented them 
and made known their request for lodging and shelter for the night. 

“I am pleased to meet you both, young ladies, and our home is 
open to you for as long as you choose to remain,” cordially ex¬ 
claimed the Missus. 

Then Pauline came forward and gave them a warm welcome, 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 117 

and she and Mrs. Vancefield conducted them to two beautiful guest 
chambers on the second floor; but they stated that one room would 
be plenty, as they preferred to sleep together. Mrs. Vancefield 
summoned a colored maid to wait on them, but this they lafflng- 
ly declined, as they were only a couple of school-girls and used to 
waiting on themselves. 

“Very well, my young dears; just make yourselves at home, 
and when you have rested, just come down below and make your¬ 
selves part of the family,’’ kindly said Mrs. Vancefield, with a kind, 
motherly look and caressing tone that put the girls at ease. 

“If you want anything, just ring for it,” explained Pauline; 
“and we usually dine at 7 o’clock in the summer time.” 

“Thank you, dear,” said Keldora; “you’re so sweet and kind 
and just about my age I should guess,” cooed Keldora in that soft 
and winning voice that never failed to reach the soul—whether the 
person had one or not. 

Then the hostess and her dauter retired, and after the girls 
washed a bit and tidied up a little and made a few changes in their 
simple attire, they descended the broad and winding stairway with 
its deep and foot-kissing velvet carpets to the big front reception- 
room, where Pauline was lazily and idly dreaming on the great old 
Chickering piano and her brother was running over a new song 
that had just reached them from New Orleans. Walden had a deep 
and rich bass and baritone voice and he knew how to use it. Paul¬ 
ine introduced Walden, and then they all four fell to discussing the 
events of the outside world. 

“I heard you singing as we came down, Mr. Vancefield, and I 
should be delighted to hear more of your wonderful voice,” coaxed 
Keldora with her soft and soul-teasing voice and great velvet liquid 
eyes that just would not be denied. 

“Oh! I only sing just a little with Sis and for my own amuse¬ 
ment,” easily and bashfully went on Walden; “but of course, as 
I’m a Vancefield , I cannot refuse any request of the fair sex,” gal¬ 
lantly explained the young man as he arose and lazily sauntered 
toward the piano. “ I have a song here that I rather fancy and it 
kind o’ suits my voice.” 

Then he sang “Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep” with a great 
deal of feeling and expression. 

“Beautiful! Wonderful!” enthused Keldora. “Why, you really 
have a wonderful voice, Mr. Vancefield.” 


118 


RED KLOVER. 


“Yes, and he knows how to use it, too,” slyly chipped in Zenda 
by way of approval. 

This greatly pleased the young man and his talented sister, 
who played the piano for him. 

“I just know from your voice and face that you can play and 
sing,” returned Walden, “and I should be delighted to hear you.” 

“And so would we all,” enthusiastically exclaimed Pauline, and 
she arose from the instrument and signaled for Keldora to play 
for them. 

“Like your brother, I just play a few chords and hum some of 
the old plantation melodies for my own amusement,” bowed Kel¬ 
dora as she easily sauntered over to the piano. 

Then she clouded up and just stormed all over the old Chick, 
and they knew at once that she was a master. After rendering a 
very pretty and difficult composition of Liszt, she sang one of her 
own little Ozark songs with all the old wild passion and feeling of 
the woods. The whole family were now in the parlor and gasping 
with entranced astonishment. They begged for more, and then 
she and Zenda sang one together, and the hypnotized auditors were 
entranced beyond all hope. 

“You alls can come to dinnah now,” announced Chloe, the 
maid of all work; and old Mam Sue was grinning just behind the 
girl and wiping the dusky perspiration from her ample black face. 
She was the cook and prided herself on knowing the art from syn¬ 
tax to harvest; and the excellent meal of fried White River catfish 
with new potatoes, June peas and string beans, a salad of nuts and 
celery and onions, strawberry shortcake, and real coffee and rich 
milk that was half cream, bore ample testimony to her accomplish¬ 
ments in the culinary line. They were all in a hungry and happy 
frame of mind and congenial, and did do full justice to Aunt Sue’s 
dinner. Then they retired to the veranda, and after an hour of 
delightful converse, they begged the girls for more music. They 
went and got their banjo and guitar, and then for more than two 
hours the V^ancefields never heard such divine music as they ren¬ 
dered. And it was not but a short time till the whole yard seemed 
alive with colored humanity, for the kitchen servants had spread 
the news among the other negroes that the guests were musicians 
and were playing the banjo and guitar; and the only way you can 
keep a negro from banjo music is to kill him about seven times. 

“We hope you all can stay over for the shooting event to¬ 
morrow,” enthusiastically exclaimed the Captain. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 119 

“What kind of an event will it be?” tentatively asked Zenda, 
with a roguish twinkle dancing in her beautiful Ozark eyes. 

“The Shooting Club of this district meets here every three 
months, and we usually have a fine time,” explained Walden. 

“And that insufferable egotist, August Van Auber, thinks he 
is the whole works!” snapped Pauline, with a look of vengeance 
lighting up her dreamy brown eyes with a challenge. 

“Well, dear, you know he has beat all our members and laid 
out all the visitors we have had, and he is somewhat justified in 
his egotism,” gently admonished and explained Mrs. Vancefield. 

“I don’t care if he has,” pouted Pauline. “He’s no business 
being a vulgar braggart.” 

“By the way, who is this gentleman who shoots so well?” 
queried Keldora, with a saucy arch in her eyebrows. 

“He’s the only son and heir of old Abner Van Auber, of Cape 
Girardeau, and is a very rich young man, with ample means to 
gratify every whim; besides, he’s badly spoiled, and don’t consider 
any girl good enuff for him,” carefully explained the Missus. 

“In fact, he has had the vety bad taste to boast of his prowess 
among the fair sex,” explained Walden, “and of course Sis and most 
of the young women hereabouts consider him more or less of a cad.” 

“What he needs is to be taken down hard—and at his own 
game, too!” exclaimed Zenda, and her wonderful eyes were emit¬ 
ting sparks like an overcharged electrode. 

“Yes, but who is going to do that little stunt, Miss Woodbine?” 
laffed the Captain, as tho his question had closed the meeting. 

“I think that Zenda and I can take the afflatus out of Herr 
Van Auber’s sails,” quietly announced Keldora, and her dazzling 
eyes shone like the soft splendor of a Septober night on the Orinoco 
River. 

“Oh! then you both shoot?” eagerly exclaimed the Captain. 

“Well, I think I could hit a prairie if it were set up edgeways,” 
laffed Keldora. 

“And I just know I could hit the earth if I fell out of a balloon,” 
coolly announced Zenda; then they all had a big laff at this sally of 
wit. 

“Oh, mother! but wouldn’t it be great if these little school¬ 
girls could beat that conceited old thing?” clapped Pauline in an 
ecstasy of delight; “and especially as he has so slandered and ridi¬ 
culed our sex.” And she went over and put her arms around Kel- 
dora’s neck and gave her a big squeeze; then she went over and 


120 


RED KLOVER. 


loved and petted Zenda and praised her for her courage and willing¬ 
ness to stand up and fight for her sex. 

“Very well, then, Captain Vancefield, we accept your kind in¬ 
vitation to remain over and be your guests at the shoot to-morrow,” 
warmly and quietly said Keldora. 

“And if that Dutchman thinks he’s the whole artillery, he’s 
got to show us!” butted in Zenda in her vein of fine irony,that 
always produced a laff. 

So it was arranged for the girls to remain over a day longer 
than they had expected to. The whole family were delighted at their 
good luck in being so highly honored, and Pauline was so trans¬ 
ported with joy that she didn’t get to sleep that night till away 
after 2 o’clock in the morning; but she was up with the firsti note of 
the mocking-bird that floated down from the top of the tall old 
sycamore tree that stood like a sentinel between the house and 
the river. 

Keldora and Zenda were also astir early, and hurried out to 
the near-by pasture to say “Good morning” to Prince and Wingie. 
They never neglected their horses, and as soon as the little animals 
saw the girls they kicked up their heels and ran up to the pasturs 
gate and began rubbing their soft and velvet noses against their 
mistresses’ faces and shoulders, and seemed as happy as a young kit¬ 
ten that has had all the milk it wants and is curled up under the 
old cook stove and enjoying the delicious aromas from the cooking 
foods. They petted the splendid animals and talked to them 
awhile in the mysterious love-languages they so well understood, 
and then Keldora whispered in Prince’s ear that they would tarry 
there till the following day. 

Prince reached over and rubbed his nose against Wingie’s face 
and said: “ Come on, dear; we’re going to have a day off for our va¬ 
cation; and I just know there is some extra fine grass down there 
along the creek.” And Wingie seemed, to understand, for she trot¬ 
ted off after her cavalier, and looked contented and happy. 

Then they went back to the house, took their usual exercises 
and bath, and by that time old Mam Sue had a delicious and appe¬ 
tizing breakfast ready to serve. After breakfast the young people 
retired to the parlor and indulged in about an hour of music. Then 
the girls got their rifles and six-shooters from the barn and care¬ 
fully cleaned them, and were all ready for the big shoot. 

As early as 9 o’clock the members began to arrive and by 10:30 
they and a few guests from other shooting clubs were all assembled. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


121 


Van Auber was arrayed in proper shooting costume, but most 
of the others were not. He was president of the club, and it was 
plain to see that he considered himself the Supreme and Mighty 
Itt. He was coldly and cynically polite, but had a condescending 
and important air about him that was a cross between a sneer and 
pity, and this made most people dislike h ; m; but, owing to his great 
wealth and his prowess with any kind of a gun, he was tolerated and 
envied by most of the people. 

No one had got close enuff to him to let him know that his. 
titles were going to be disputed—and by a couple of school-girls 
He would only have scoffed at such an absurdity anyway. 

Promptly at io o’clock Van Auber called the club to order with 
due dignity and the proper amount of quiet insolence and cock¬ 
sureness. 

The minutes were read and approved, and two new members 
were admitted. 

The first thing was trap-shooting with clay pigeons, and of 
course Van Auber won easily, altho one of the visitors from Cairo 
had given him a hard run for his money. Then came some faney 
pistol-shooting. Van Auber won again. Then Van Aubei chal¬ 
lenged Walden to a trial at shooting apples with a pistol. Walden 
was to throw an apple as high up in the air as he could and Van 
Auber was to shoot it before it reached the ground; then Van Auber 
was to throw the apple up and Walden was to. shoot it. This was 
to be kept up till one of them missed. The prize was ten dollars. 
Walden missed his twentieth apple and Van Auber won again. 

Poor Pauline was furious. She realized that Van Auber had 
challenged her brother more as a means of humiliating herself than 
anything else. 

Zenda’s blood was up to the danger-point, and she stepped 
forward and coolly addressed the winner 

“Mr. Van Auber, I think I can beat you at some real shooting,” 
sarcastically challenged the little “Arkansaw Wildcat,” as Van 
Auber|afterward termed her. 

“Indeed! And who are we, anyway?” coolly and insolently 
questioned the astonished man. 

“She is Miss Zenda Woodbine, of Arkansaw, and our guest,” 
announced the Captain, with a look in his steady blue eyes that 
made Van Auber change his tone and tactics immediately. 

“Oh, indeed! then I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Wood- 


122 


RED KLOVER. 


bine;” and he made a very low and courteous bow, and turned 
his gaze at Keldora, who was standing near. 

“And this young lady is Miss Keldora Storm, of our beloved 
Ozarks,” continued the Captain as he presented Keldora to Van 
Auber. He bowed very low and courteously over her and she ac¬ 
knowledged it in pure Holland Dutch, much to his astonishment 
and delight. Then he turned to Zenda and politely inquired: 

“Would Miss Woodbine be so kind as to exp ain what she 
calls ‘real shooting 

“To be sure, Mr. Van Auber. I presume you can ride?” 

“ Certainly—anything that goes on legs or wheels,” and he smiled 
at his own humor. 

“Very well, then; we’ll try out a little pistol-shooting on 
horseback while the animals are running at full speed.” The Cap¬ 
tain had a private race-track that was just half a mile around it. 
“We will go and ride around the race-track out yonder and have 
persons stationed fifty feet apart and they will throw apples in the 
air for us to shoot, and we will wing the fruit before it reaches the 
ground,” explained Zenda, with a saucy and tantalizing air that 
made Van Auber look silly and feel embarrassed at being thus chal¬ 
lenged and made ridiculous by a mere slip of a school-girl that 
ought to be in pinafores yet. “That will be some real sport, Herr 
President;” and Zenda gave him a most provoking smile that made 
him inwardly furious. 

“That will suit me all right, Miss Woodbine, and possibly I 
may be able to take some of the conceit out of you,” sarcastically 
returned the baffled man. 

“Yes— p-o-s-s-i-b-l-y ,” mimicked Zenda, to the delight of 
Pauline and most of the others. 

“Oh! by the way, Mr. Van Auber, don’t you think it would be 
more interesting and like .real sport if we wagered a little money 
on it?” teased Zenda in her most provoking manner. 

“To be sure, miss; but I didn’t know but what you had scru¬ 
ples against betting,” mocked the young man. 

“Oh! I have, but I’m not using them to-day,” fired back Zenda, 
with about thirteen per cent of interest added for good measure. 

“Very well, then. I’ll wager ten dollars that I defeat you at 
your own little game.” And he drew himself up to full height and 
smiled condescendingly, with a mock bow toward both girls. 

“I’m not a piker nor tinhorn, Mr. Van Auber. Let’s make it 
three hundred dollars.” 


123 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

“Whew!” whistled the young man in genuine astonishment; 
“but you are a game little sport all right.” And he gave her a 
keen and prolonged look of astonishment and admiration. 

“I mean it, Mr. Van Auber; and here are three hundred dol¬ 
lars that say that you have slightly overestimated yourself—as your 
sex is inclined to do.” This brought forth yells of applause from 
the entire assemblage, and poor Van Auber was for once in his 
proud and idle life completely taken down and annihilated—and by 
a mere school-girl. He dug up the necessary three hundred dollars 
and the money was placed in the Captain’s hands as referee. 

It was now the noon hour, and the Captain announced that 
luncheon would be served out under the big linden trees to the 
club and its guests. 

This was a memorable social event in the annals of the Ozarks 
and about two o’clock the entire party and most of the servants 
and field-hands went out to the track for the big event. 

Van Auber had ridden over there on a fine blooded animal, of 
whieh he was very proud, and which he often rode in his rambles 
over the countryside. Zenda and Keldora rode out to the track on 
their ponies. 

There were to be eighteen apple-throwers stationed around the 
track, and each contestant was to carry three six-shooters, all loaded 
and ready. The two not in use were to be carried in the holsters 
of the saddles and taken out when needed and the empty ones put 
back in the holster. The apples were to be thrown high in the air 
when the rider was twenty-five feet away. If the contest was a tie, 
it was to be tried over again until one or the other failed to hit the 
apple. 

“Ladies first,” mockingly smiled the young man when every¬ 
thing was in readiness. 

“Very well, monsieur,” returned Zenda in perfect French and 
with a most provoking smile. 

Zenda was dressed just as she was when she arrived there the 
previous day, and when she saucily and confidently rode Wingie 
out on the track and in front of the judge’s stand, she certainly 
made a charming appearance and won all hearts—even Van Auber’s. 

“I am ready,” she simply announced. 

Then the judge fired a pistol as the signal to start. Zenda was 
off like the winds of Arizona, and the little mare seemed to under¬ 
stand that some very important contest was in progress, so she be¬ 
haved perfectly and kept up an ^ven and easy run. 


124 


RED KLOVER. 


Every one of the eighteen apples was hit and most of them 
very near their centers. Such yelling and applauding the Ozarks 
seldom heard before. She received an ovation when she made the 
round and never missed an apple. 

Then Van Auber rode clumsily out on the track and signaled 
that he was ready. He looked pale and furious, but game to the 
last. He missed the first two apples entirely and just grazed the 
next three, then missed another one and grazed two more. Only 
two apples were shot thru their centers. The wild yells of derision 
that greeted him as he came under the wire completely took the 
egotism out of him. He hurried over to where Pauline was trying 
to squeeze Zenda to death, and, making a very low bow, contritely 
said: 

“Miss Woodbine, you’re a wonder—I’m only an amateur. 
Where did you learn to ride and shoot?” 

“Why, in these dear old Ozark hills, where I was born and 
raised.” And she gave him the first real smile of sympathy she had 
yet bestowed on him. 

“Would Mr. Van Auber like to see some more real marksman¬ 
ship?” politely inquired Keldora, with her most fetching smile. 

“Well, really, Miss Storm, I don’t know but what Pve had 
about enuff for one day,” stammered the flustered young man. 

“Ah, you old tinhorn quitter!” sneered Pauline, and she fixed 
her glorious big brown eyes steadily on his handsome face. “I 
thot you were a real sport, Mr. Van Auber.” And she continued 
to stare at him in that aggravating way that only a woman can 
stare. 

This challenge and taunt in the presence of so many of his 
friends and brother members of the club got under his pride in a 
hurry, and he turned to Keldora and politely inquired what her idea 
of real shooting was. 

“Why, it is this: I will put my two six-shooters in my hip 
holsters, lay my rifle down on the ground in front of me, and then 
Pll throw an apple up in the air, pick up the rifle and split the apple 
in two halves, and before the two halves reach the ground Pll draw 
my revolvers and put a bullet thru each half,” calmly explained 
the young Suffrajet without batting an eyelash. 

“Bah! the person doesn’t live who can do that,” disgustedly 
exclaimed the young man, who thot the girls were guying him and 
trying to humiliate him in the eyes of his friends and acquaint¬ 
ances. Then he lifted his cap and started to walk away. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 125 

“I’ll bet you five hundred dollars I can do it,” shouted Keldora 
after him. 

“I’ll accept that bet, miss, for I know you’re just bluffing,” 
and he indignantly reached for his wallet again. 

“I never bluff on anything less than five aces and a few vis¬ 
itors from the royal family,” shot the girl right back at him* This 
witticism brought out tremendous applause and many smiles at 
his expense. 

Keldora fished out a five-hundred-dollar bill she had tucked 
away about her clothes for a rainy day, and it seemed that the 
wet diem had arrived. The money was placed this time in Colo¬ 
nel Jordan’s hands, who acted as stake-holder and, with Captain 
Vancefield, umpired the game. 

A fair-sized apple was brought forth and Keldora handed it 
to Mr. Van Auber to examine and to satisfy himself that it was 
solid and intact. He handed it back and nodded that it was 0 . K. 
Then she smiled and bowed to the assemblage and tossed the apple 
high in the air. She picked up the rifle with lightning quickness 
and without any effort split the apple in two almost even halves. 
Then she snatched her pistols and easily sent a bullet thru each 
half before it was within fifteen feet of the ground; and then, just 
for pure daredevilism and good measure, she fired a fourth shot and 
clipped.one of the quarters in twain. This was too much for Van 
Auber. He threw up his hands and signaled for silence, and when 
it was granted him, he simply bowed and announced: “I resign as 
president of our club and also from the club. Good-day, ladies 
and gentlemen.” Then he mounted his racer and was off—with 
his soul at half-mast and his pride trailing in the dust. Whether 
he returned to the Old Country or not was never known, but he 
was never again seen in the Ozarks. 

Keldora and Zenda were queens again and everybody was crazy 
to meet them and entertain them. Pauline was just simply daffy 
over them, and Walden would have gladly laid down his soul for 
them to walk on. 

The Cape Girardeau papers got the story and then the Paducah 
and Nashville papers printed it and commented on it. No one 
was more pleased than were Judge Bragston and the Governor of 
Tennessee. They sent copies of the papers to the girls, and each 
gentleman wrote a letter of congratulation and expressed his sat¬ 
isfaction. 


126 


RED KLOVER. 


That night at supper Pauline came in the dining-room with an 
arm affectionately wound around the girls’ necks and declared: 

“Papa, I’m just never going to let these girls leave us.” 

“I wish we could keep them, dear, for they would be a delight¬ 
ful addition to our family,” fervently said the Old Man, and his 
soft blue eyes had a moisture in them. 

“And I’d just give the world to have two more dauters,” sec¬ 
onded Mrs. Vancefield. 

“Well, they’re always going to be my sisters, anyway,” and 
Pauline unwound her arms in order to allow them to be seated at 
the table. 

Old Mam Sue was an interested spectator that afternoon and 
the smile on her face when she brought in the supper was like the 
Mississippi River. “Golly! Massa Cap’n, I had to swat that fool 
niggah Joe this afternoon—him as what lives down thar by the big 
rock.” 

“Why, Mam Sue, what did Joseph do to arouse your righteous 
ire?” winked the Captain. 

“Why, when he done larn that the little Missy Zenda had bet 
three hunderd dollars thet she could beat that poor white-trash of 
a Van Slobber, that fool niggah up and sez, sez he: ‘Dat fool gal 
shuh looz her munny. Mistah Van dun beat all the white fokes 
and everbody wid de gun.’ Den I haul off and hit dat black nig¬ 
gah right in his speakuh and tried to get my whole fist down his 
black froat;” and the old soul struck a Robert E. Lee and General 
Jackson pose and stormed out of the room. 

They all had a big laff over this speech, and Walden dryly 
remarked: “You*all sure have a champion in old Mam Sue.” 

“Yes, and in everybody else,” added Pauline, with interest. 

After supper a little music was indulged in, and then the Cap¬ 
tain, the Missus, Pauline and Walden drove down to the river in 
the big family carry-all, and there they all embarked on a splendid 
and nifty little yacht that was the pride of the Vancefields and the 
envy of the nabors. The Captain, being an old river man and 
sea-dog, just couldn’t live without some kind of a boat, so he had 
this little skipper built and equipped at Memphis a few years after 
giving up the river life. It was named The Catfish , on account of 
its rapid and graceful movements thru the water. The girls had 
their banjo and guitar along, and Pauline had her mandolin and 
Walden his violin; so the night was spent in music and song and 
just dreaming. The Captain and two of his servants managed the 


127 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

boat, and the Missus was too happy to do anything but just dream 
and drink in the moonlight and music. They drifted down the 
river about five miles and then turned and came slowly back—not 
.caring much whether they ever reached the shore again or whether 
the night ever ended—they^were all so happy. 

Just before leaving the boat, Walden managed to get Zenda 
alone for a moment and quietly said: 

“Miss Woodbine, I should like to keep track of you. What 
do you say to an exchange of a few letters?” and he blushed like a 
new rose receiving the amorous kisses of the morning sun. 

“I’m willing,” said Zenda simply; “and as I shall visit with 
Keldora for awhile, you may address me there.” 

“How far is it to her home?” said the young man, with a new 
light dawning on his mind. 

“About forty miles, I reckon;” and she could not quite subdue 
the blush that insisted on coloring her cheeks. 

“Well, I can easily ride over there and visit you before you 
leave.” 

“I shall be pleased to see you, Mr. Vancefield.” 

Just then Keldora came looking for enda and announcing that 
the boat was anchored to the wharf and that it was time to go ashore. 

When they reached home that night, the Vancefields all de¬ 
clared that it was the end of a perfect day—and the girls agreed 
with them. 

“And to think, dears, that you defeated that egotist and brag¬ 
gart!” exclaimed Pauline, as she affectionately wished them good¬ 
night and pleasant dreams. And their dreams were pleasant, too— 
especially Zenda’s, for she admitted to herself that Walden was a 
real gentleman, and—handsome and good. What more could a 
sensible girl want? 

After an appetizing breakfast that old Mam Sue had taken 
much pains to prepare and serve, the young people sang a few fare¬ 
well songs while their horses were being saddled and made ready 
for the last lap on the way back home. Walden helped Zenda to 
mount and whispered some sweet nothings as he slipped her a little 
bouquet of beautiful pansies and wood violet . 

“Oh, my favorites!” exclaimed Zenda. “I shall wear them for 
you” 

Poor Pauline was heartbroken when it was time to say good¬ 
bye; and the hardened old Captain turned away to hide his tears. 


128 


RED KLOVER. 


“God bress you all, honeys!” shouted old Mam Sue after them 
as the spirited animals were off like the wind. 

Zenda slipped her flowers in her dress bosom and did not tell 
‘Keldora anything about them; but Keldora knew, for she was a 
good guesser as well as a crack shot. 

“That’s all right, dear. Mr. Vancefield is a fine young man 
and I approve of him. If he can capture your heart, I’ll be your 
best man at the wedding;” and Keldora reached over and gave 
her little friend and pal a squeeze that was a whole sermon. “And 
what a dear little sister Pauline will make!” 

“I guess you’re right, Kel; anyway, I promised to correspond 
with him, and gave permission for him to visit me at your home.” 

“I’m so glad you did that, for I want papa and mamma to 
meet him.” 

This greatly pleased Zenda; and the rest of the trip was in¬ 
deed a tangled dream of wild flowers and meadow brooks. 

As they got a late start, they did not reach their home till 9 
o’clock that night, but there was a full moon that night, and if you 
want to know all the possibilities of fair Luna in the capacity of an 
electric light plant, you’ve got to see her down in the Ozarks when 
she is full. Only a poet who is also an artist and a musician can 
understand and appreciate it. Their welcome home will always 
be one of the emerald and moonlit plazas in their minds. Talk 
about slaying the fatted calf!—that wouldn’t have made a cheese 
sandwich. 

The elder Storms were out on their big front porch, dreaming 
and loving in the moonlight as their old friend the Southwind crooned 
lullabies to them. All at once they were startled out of their rev¬ 
erie as horses’ hoof-beats were heard coming up the tree-lined drive. 

“Why, mother, who can that be this late?” and Colonel Storm 
strained his ears to catch and identify the sounds. 

“Oh, Lex! could it be Keldora and Zenda?” and Mrs. Storm 
was on her feet and starting for the big arched and vine-clad gate— 
the entrance to their front yard and home. 

“I do believe it is,” he said. Then he was right after her, and 
they brought up at the gate simultaneously. 

Kel was the first to see them and she sang out with her whole 
heart in her deep, rich voice: 

“Hello, daddy and mamma! It is I and Zenda is with me.” 
Then she leaped to the ground and made a dash for her parents and 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 129 

just tried to hug and squeeze them to death; and their faces were 
joy-maps. 

“Come here, Zenda, and meet my parents,” said Keldora. 

Mrs. Storm just gathered Zenda to her heart and loved and 
mothered her like she did her own chick, and remarked: 

“Kel has written so much about you and told us how good 
you are and how she loves you, so you seem just like our dauter, 
too; |and I want you to make yourself perfectly at home with us 
and also be our dauter—for there is always room in our hearts and 
home for anyone our little girl is fond of.” 

Then the Colonel took her in one arm and Kel in the other 
one and just squeezed and squeezed both of them and bade her 
welcome to their home and hearts. 

“I am so glad, dauter, that you have found a real companion— 
a pal and comrade,” said the Colonel. 

“And, daddy,” Keldora continued, “she is just my other self 
and is just as good as she is beautiful, and I just know she’ll make 
you ali laff yourselves to death, for she’s funnier than a clown 
and has a wit that cuts like a bob-cat’s front teeth.” 

“I’m very proud and happy that I now have two dauters;’* 
and the Colonel gently bumped their pretty heads together, and 
asked if they had had any supper. 

“Not yet, daddy,” replied Keldora, “and we’re just starving, 
too; so get busy and slice up the fatted calf.” And they all had a 
big and contagious laff. 

Mrs. Storm had already gone to the kitchen, and the delicious 
odor of frying ham and eggs floated out to them like a benediction. 

The most of that night was spent in talking and asking the 
the girls a million questions. 

It was plain to see that Lex and Veldena were both greatly 
pleased at the wonderful changes in their dauter. Kel was now in¬ 
deed a young lady and had a finished gleam and an easy and grace¬ 
ful sparkle that made her irresistible. 

“Mother, our cup is surely full to-night. Our darling is back 
home with us and exceeds in every way our wildest dreams and 
fondest expectations.” And then Lex gathered Veldena up in his 
great manly arms and proceeded to squeeze her to death. 

“Yes, dear love,” replied Mrs. Storm; “and oh, I’m so glad 
she is heart-whole and hasn’t had any foolish love affairs down there! 
and I’m so glad Zenda came with her—I wish we could keep her 
always!” 


130 


RED KLOVER. 


After a late breaklast next morning, Kel and Zen mounted their 
ponies, and Kel proceeded to show the wonderful place to Zenda. 
Zenda was in raptures over it before they had seen half of it. 

The Storms planned to give a big reception in honor of their 
dauter’s return, and most of the countryside were bidden to come; 
and they came with bells on, and joy was unconfined for a day and 
night. The girls were thus officially and properly brought out and 
introduced to everyone worth knowing, and their popularity spread 
like a flu epidemic or a church scandal in a small town. It was a 
fatted calf barbecue all right and passed into history as the greatest 
social event that ever took place in the Ozark country. 

Every young swain wanted to call on the girls, but Kel and 
Zen both kindly and politely declined all such advanees. Zenda 
knew why she declined—and Kel simply didn’t have time to waste 
on the bumptious young critters; and the elder Storms were quite 
certain the naborhood had no one who would be half good enuff 
for Kel—and she agreed with them. So Keldora spent the next 
three years at home and employed her time helping her father and 
mother and pursuing many new studies and writing. Yes, she was 
bound to be an author. 

Chapter XXII. 

ZENDA HAS VISITORS AND BECOMES A SCHOOLMAM. 

The next couple of months were a dreamland Arcadia to the 
girls. They just wandered around among the dear old hills and 
played and dreamed and got acquainted with all the birds and 
denizens of the forests. They would gallop away on their ponies, 
and always carried their banjo and guitar with them and their 
trusty six-shooters. They generally also carried a bag well filled 
with pencils and artists’ materials, for they were both fond of sketch¬ 
ing and were no mean artists. The weather and environment were 
ideal and the life romantic and idyllic, and oh, how they enjoyed 
it and blossomed as only perfect human flowers can bloom! And 
these were gala days for Lex and Veldena, and sometimes the girls 
persuaded them to be their guests of honor on these nomadic ex¬ 
peditions to the woods and eternal old hills. This pdeased the 
elder Storms and made them feel like kids again. They would catch 
some brook trout and broii them on spits, and with some wild fruit 
that grew everywhere, and some, native nuts that only had to be 
shaken from the trees, they feasted as only free and natural souls 
can feast. The soft mountain water, as clear as crystal, made a nec- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 131 

tar fit for the gods; and the shells of gourds and cocoanuts made 
the right kind of. cups, and there were plenty of big oak leaves for 
saucers and napkins. It was the old primeval life in all its modern 
glory, and they knew how to live and enjoy it. 

Zenda had promptly written and told her parents where she was 
and her intentions of making Keldora a prolonged visit before going 
to her Arkansaw home. Zenda was ■yvell provided with homes— 
and others were yearning and longing for her. The Woodbines 
only lived about seventy-five miles from the Storms, and Zenda’s 
father wrote that he would ride over and carry her home with him 
early in August. It was only the last of June then, and that would 
give the twins plenty of time to visit. 

“I’m real glad that your father is coming over and honor us 
with a visit,” remarked Colonel Storm when he was informed of 
the news from Arkansaw. 

“And, daddy, we’ll just show him the time of his life!” ex¬ 
claimed Keldora, with girlish glee. 

“I’ve no doubt of it, my dears,” dryly winked the Colonel at 
both the girls. 

About the same time that Captain Woodbine’s letter arrived 
Zenda also received another one that made her face outdo Rubens 
and the rainbow in color schemes. Of course it was from Walden, 
and the envelope bore the Vancefield coat of arms:—a small steam¬ 
boat rounding a bend in the White River and a bob-cat clinging to 
the mizzen-mast. 

“All right, dear little pal,” purred Keldora affectionately. “I’ll 
just go and help mater with the dinner while you read your letter, 
for I know you want to be alone F 

“Isn’t she just the dearest girl in all the world?” mused Zenda 
to herself after Kel had disappeared. “She just seems to intui¬ 
tively understand and know everything .” 

Zenda soon devoured her letter—her first love-letter—and then 
she read it again and again, and then kissed it and sacredly hid it 
away near her heart, and as it was too sacred for any eyes but Zen¬ 
da’s, we’ll not intrude it on our readers. “Oh, pshaw!” I hear 
some of my girl readers exclaim. Never mind, girls; just wait till 
you receive a real sure-enuff love-letter and then you will respect 
Zenda’s delicacy about having it made common property. And 
that afternoon Zenda asked to be excused, as she had a letter to 
write; and oh, what a letter it was, too! Walden never before 
knew how it felt to have a pair of sixteen-cylinder wings'and no 


132 


RED KLOVER. 


clouds in the sky. He was too happy the remainder of that day 
to do anything but just dream—and refuse to eat or sleep. Paul¬ 
ine, the little feminine ferret, guessed his secret the first shot, and 
it was hard to tell which was the happier—she or her brother. 

The next day Walden was up with the birds and hollyhocks, 
and after a light breakfast and an hour’s horseback ride he took 
writing materials and locked himself in his den, and after about 
two hours’ hard work he finally got a letter together that seemed 
about the right thing. Then he mounted his mare, Fanwing, and 
rode to the little town to mail it. He informed Zenda that he 
would set out early Saturday morning on Fanwing and try to reach 
the Storm home Saturday night, and would remain with them till 
the following Monday. When this good news was imparted to the 
Colonel and Mrs. Storm, they hastened to assure Zenda that their 
home was wide open to any of her friends and relatives, and that 
they would feel honored to have a visit from Mr. Vancefield. The 
Colonel had often heard of the Vancefields and knew them by rep¬ 
utation. This was only Thursday—and he wouldn’t arrive till late 
Saturday night. 

“Kel dear, how long will it be until Saturday night?” asked 
Zenda that evening after supper and while they were dreaming in 
the big grapevine swing out in the front yard. Then she leaned 
over and hid her pretty head of wild and tangled hair on Kel’s shoul¬ 
der and blushed like a wild poppy in the warm Septober sun. 

“Why, Zenda! is it that far advanced already?” mocked Kel 
in her soothing mother-tone that Zenda always liked to hear; “if it 
is, I’m afraid you’ll have to take something for it.” Then Kel took 
Zenda in her arms and cooed to her and mothered her like a young 
mother does her first-born when it has stubbed its toe. 

“You’re just a darling, Kel, and I don’t know what I’d do 
without you! ” fervently exclaimed Zenda, and she just couldn’t quite 
keep the tears away from her wonderful eyes. 

“There, there, dear,” said Keldora; “you are not going to do 
without me. We’re never going to be very far or long apart, are 
we, Zen?” 

“Not if I can have my way about it, dear, for I know I could 
never be half happy without you—the other half of myself,” fer¬ 
vently replied Zenda as she cuddled up closer in Kel’s arms and 
cooed like a happy baby when its mother fondles it and presses it 
closer and ever closer to her heart. 

These two beautiful and wonderful girls had indeed grown into 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


133 


one another until they were really one—never the slightest discord 
between them in more than three years of the greatest intimacy. 

“But really, dear, I’m so glad it is Mr. Vancefield, for I’m 
sure he is just a grand young man and a real gentleman;- besides, 
he comes from such good stock, and has a name equal to any of 
them; and then to think how delighted little Pauline and his par¬ 
ents will be! Yes, my child, it will be a splendid match, and you 
will have my choicest blessings,” lightly mocked Kel in her kind and 
facetious way. 

“But, dear Kel, you must not help me count my chickens be¬ 
fore even a feather is in sight,” and Zen smiled in her old ironical 
way. 

“I think, if you’ll let me read Walden’s letter, I can find enuff 
feathers to make feather-beds for a whole family,” slyly smiled Kel; 
“and I believe that I could also detect the odor of pansies about 
it,” dryly winked Kel as she fastened her great, soft purple eyes on 
Zenda’s blushing face. 

“Oh! what do you know about pansies?” exclaimed Zen, with 
several new shades of old colors suffusing her glorious face. 

“Oh! nothing, of course,” mocked Kel; “I am possessed with 
the clairvoyant gift of seeing without looking;” and then she gath¬ 
ered her little pal up closer and closer and kissed her pretty brown 
hair that was hatched in the moomight and tangled by the South- 
wind. 

“Kel, dear, I’m just never again going to try and keep any¬ 
thing away from you.” 

“That’s right, Zen; as I am your other self,you must have no 
secrets from me.” 

“Oh! here you elves are,” bantered the Colonel as he came out 
and squeezed in between them on the old vine swing and gently 
circled an arm around each one and fondly squeezed them and then 
bumped their pretty heads together playfully. “What new mis - 
chief are you planning now?” went on the Colonel. 

“Why, daddy, we’ve just been talking about the coming of 
Mr. Vancefield, and I’ve been telling Zen what a fine young man 
he is, and have been bestowing my blessing on them a little in ad¬ 
vance of the event,” mocked Kel in her wonderful voice of musical 
fragrance. 

“Well, indeed! you are rushing things a little, my child,” dryly 
remarked her father. “Perhaps Mr. Vancefield will have some¬ 
thing to say about” it. 


134 


RED KLOVER. 

“Oh! no he won’t, daddy; he’s been shot right thru the center 
of his big heart and is just coming up here for Zen to bury him— 
and I’m going to officiate at the obsequies ,” mocked Kel in her finest 
vein of pleasant irony. 

“Now, Colonel, I just think it’s a shame the way you all tease 
me and make fun of me,” pouted Zen, and the colors continued to 
play shadow-tag all over her beautiful face. 

“There, there, little girl,” said the Colonel; “I know how it 
feels to have the fever the first time, but we all have to go thru with 
it and take our medicine. Kel, don’t tease the child any more, or 
she’ll be so nervous and rattled she won’t remember his name when 
he arrives.” 

Then they both proceeded to tell the Colonel what they knew 
about the Vancefields and the lovely time they had as their guests; 
and when they related how they lowered Mr. Van Auber’s colors 
and made that egotistical young snob look like a thirty-cent-piece 
that never had a 3 and borrowed its o from the Mound Builders, 
the Colonel just roared and roared, and then hugged them both 
again to his heart, and told Zen he was sure proud of her and was 
delighted that Kel had found her and brought her home; “for I 
sure need another dauter, and to hear of your exploits it would be 
difficult to tell which was the other; and if that young cub thinks 
of going home in less than a week, I’ll waylay him and shoot him 
for a slacker!” boomed the Colonel. 

“It is awfully sweet of you, Colonel Storm, to be so good to 
me and receive my guests like they were your own,” warmly re¬ 
turned Zenda, and she squeezed the Colonel’s hand and nestled her 
pretty head over on his shoulder. 

“They are my own , and I know that Mr. Vancefield is the 
right sort and a gentleman or he would never have received an invi¬ 
tation from a girl like you; besides, it will take the three of us to 
show him all over the place, and a week is such a short time —at 
limes ” dryly winked the Colonel. 

“And, Kel dear, what’s the matter that you haven’t found 
your Prince Charming yet?” asked the Colonel point blank. 

“I don’t know why he hasn’t shown up yet, daddy dear, but 
he has not even appeared in my dreams; so I think you are doomed 
to have an old maid on your hands, daddy;” and Kel looked as 
serious as tho^she were uttering a prophecy that was sure to come 
true. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 135 

“I wish I could always have you, Kel,” and the Colonel sighed 
audibly. 

“Of course you are going to -always have me, daddy dear,” said 
Keldora, “for 1 could not be happy without you and mamma and 
Zen. Even if I marry, my husband must come here and live where 
we can always be near one another. You have enuff lan.d for a 
dozen men to farm, and he has got to agree to come here and live 
in our hallowed and wonderful Arcadia or he won’t get me—so 
there!” 

“That’s the talk, dauter mine,” returned the Colonel, “and I 
heartily agree with you; besides, I’ll soon be too old for active 
work, and it would be so nice to have a son in my declining days.” 

“You’re so sweet and sensible, daddy; no wonder I just wor¬ 
ship you,” replied Keldora. 

So it was settled that if Kel ever married, she and her husband 
were to come there and live among the dear old hills and trees and 
brooks that knew her from infancy. No other place would be home. 

MR. VANCEFIELD ARRIVES. 

At last Saturday night rolled around, and after supper Kel and 
Zen went down to a big rustic seat among the vines and near the 
big gate that opened out on the woodland road that wound off to¬ 
ward the southeast. It would be up this road that their expected 
guest would come. And oh, how Zenda counted the minutes! Each 
one seemed a snail and inclined to stick to the soft summer air. But 
at last Kel shouted: “Oh. Zenda! I think I hear hoof-beats down 
the road.” 

Then it was hard to tell the hoof-beats from Zenda’s heart¬ 
beats. She made a brave effort to control herself and appear calm, 
but it was no use—her nerves got away from her, and it was a 
lucky thing that Kel was there to help her at the critical moment. 
Kel saw him first and shouted a welcome that put him at his ease. 

“Welcome to our home, Mr. Vancefield —The Dreamlands /” 
and Kel hurried out to give him her hand, while Zenda was just 
behind her and trying to outblush the young man—which was quite 
useless. 

“And—I am also—so—pleased to—to—meet you again, Mr. 
Vancefield,” stammered poor Zenda, and she timidly held out her 
dainty white hand, which he nervously grasped and almost forgot 
to let go again. 

“I’m sure delighted to meet you all again!” easily exclaimed 


RED KLOVER. 


136 

the young man, “and the long ride has only whetted my appetite 
for such an Arcadia as this. Miss Storm, you must have just 
dreamed this delightful Valhalla!” exclaimed the young man in 
tones of entranced delight. “Such an arbor! such a yard and 
such flowers! and such soft and dazzling moonlight! No wonder 
you’re a poet and dreamer.” 

“Come down to the earth, Mr. Vancefield, and let’s go up to 
the house and meet my parents and have some supper,” happily 
remarked Kel in her matter-of-fact way. 

“Supper!” exclaimed the entranced traveler; “why, all this 
beauty and moonlight and the fragrance from your seas of flowers 
is enough food for the gods!” and he continued to gaze in every 
direction like one bewildered. “Of course, I’ve had supper— yes¬ 
terday!” and then they all had a big laff, which kind o’ put Zenda 
a little more at ease. 

“We knew you’d be more or less starved,” sweetly cooed Zenda 
as she shyly slipped her soft little white hand thru his offered arm, 
and with Kel politely gripping his other arm he had no other al¬ 
ternative except to obey orders—which he meekly and happily did. 
He was soon presented to the Colonel and Mrs. Storm, who received 
him with a warmth and courtesy that made him forget his first 
nervousness, and soon the girls had him in the dining-room devour¬ 
ing a dainty little supper, which they had especially prepared for 
him; and when he was about half-way thru, Kel slipped away to the 
parlor and began to play some sweet old dreamy waltzes, while 
Zenda was left alone to attend to his supper. And oh, how that 
divine and flower-scented music from the soul of old Chick did 
float thru the house and hypnotize the lovers! It’s true they didn’t 
need anything to hypnotize them but their own sweet embarrass¬ 
ment, but Kel wanted to show him that he wasn’t just dreaming— 
he was sojourning in a real Arcadia—a flower-tangled Valhalla. 

The Storms were noted for their hospitality—to either friend 
or worthy foe. Ke! had arranged for one of the colored boys to 
be near the gate, but discreetly out of sight, to take care of the 
gentleman’s horse wheh he arrived. He arrived a little after 8 
o’clock, but the night was too glorious to think of plebeian things 
like sleep, so they adjourned to the big grapevine swing out in the 
front yard, and with their banjo and guitar they serenaded him 
till the moon positively refused to look on any longer. It was a 
night to ever stay green in their memories. 

Walden was so happy he did not know whether he was on 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 137 

earth or not, but as long as Zenda was with him it did not matter 
at all where he was—it was Heaven anyway. 

What an artist Love is! What fadeless pictures it paints on 
the hearts of youth; and how it can tie hearts together with rain¬ 
bows and weave garlands that never fade! 

They soon made plans for the next day, and then Keldora ex¬ 
cused herself until she went and saw if everything was ready for 
Mr. Vancefield’s retirement. And the dainty and exquisite way 
the girls had his room dolled up was enulf to make anyone happy. 
He had never before seen anything like it; and his dreams that 
night were a wilderness of tangled vines and flowers singing in the 
soft and radiant moonlight. 

As soon as Keldora was out of ear-shot, he reached over and 
found one of Zenda’s little quivering hands and reverently pressed 
it to his lips. She looked so confused and happy he gently gath¬ 
ered her in his great athletic arms and exclaimed: 

“Little Moonbeam! My own sweet Soul Dream! As Nature 
intended us for each other, I now claim you for my very own. My 
love and soul are yours. Will you be mine for all time to come?” 

“Yes, Walden. Our dreams have come true. I am yours.” 
And then she drooped her pretty head over on his shoulder and he 
took her in his arms and they sealed their plighted love and vows 
with a long and lingering Vast Forever kiss that filled their future 
lives with the melted music of the tangled vines and moon-kissed 
flowers. They had just finished the seance when Keldora returned 
and sweetly announced that everything was in readiness when Mr. 
Vancefield was ready to turn in. 

“Miss Storm,” said Walden, “won’t you congratulate us? 
Your little pal and I have decided to travel the same road thru life;” 
and he looked proud and happy and about three feet taller. 

Zenda hid her happy and blushing head on Kel’s breast, and 
the little Suffrajet, after squeezing Zen a minute, got up on the 
seat and, placing a hand 011 each of their happy heads, solemnly 
remarked: “I bless thee, my children. May all the good things 
of life attend thee.” 

Then they all arose, and Walden and Zenda followed Kel to 
the house, and he was shown to- his room and bidden good-night 
and pleasant dreams. The girls then retired to their little flower- 
embroidered nest and were soon asleep in each other’s arms. 

The breakfast next morning was an artistic affair that could 
never slip away from memory. Kel and Zenda both got up early 


138 


RED KLOVER. 


and helped Mrs. Storm and Aunt Millie (the old family servant) pre¬ 
pare the meal and arrange the table and decorate the room with 
flowers, etc. Then Kel went out in the yard and whistled and chir¬ 
ruped for her little feathered friends to come in and sing for them 
among the vines while they ate breakfast, and they came-—a hun¬ 
dred or more of them, and oh, how they sang and gamboled among 
the vines and flowers that were twined and woven everywhere! 
They always knew just what Keldora wanted and just loved to 
help her. She had played and sung with the birds so much they 
all knew her and loved her. 

Walden was astir early, and after taking his bath and care¬ 
fully dressing himself, he quietly slipped out and took a turn dowm 
thru the wonderful old orchard and gathered a bouquet of pansies 
—Zenda’s favorite flowers. By this time he had an appetite for 
breakfast—a dainty and appetizing meal of strawberries and rich 
and soul-teasing cream, fried spring chicken, with new potatoes in 
cream, June peas and lettuce, native nuts, graham gems, and the 
kind of coffee with whipped cream - that paints landscapes on the 
brain of man. 

And oh, how those little songsters did carol and gambol among 
the vines all over the room while the family lazily enjoyed the meal! 
The big windows were all open, and the fragrance of the flowers 
pervaded the room from all directions. 

“Colonel Storm, this is indeed Valhalla!” exclaimed the young 
man—utterly entranced beyond expression; “and how in the. world 
did you ever entice all those beautiful birds in here to act as an 
orchestra?” continued the amazed young man. 

“Ask Kel there,” laconically replied the Colonel. 

“It is all a part of her witchery,” explained Mrs. Storm, amused 
at the young man’s bewilderment. “The birds and everything else 
around here are her willing slaves and obey her slightest wish,” 
continued the proud mother. 

“And nobody knows half how wonderful she is,” loyally chimed 
in Zenda. “It just seems to be born in her;” and Zen reached 
over and squeezed Kel’s hand affectionately. 

“It is certainly wonderful!” reiterated the puzzled young man. 
“How I should love to have my parents and sister see this won¬ 
derful place—this Paradise of tangled vines and flowers—of music 
and love and contentment!” went on Walden, forgetful of every¬ 
thing but the beauty and wonder of it. 

“Mr. Vancefield, we should be delighted to meet and entertain 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 139 

your people,” courteously and warmly exclaimed the Colonel, “and 
we hope you can bring them over and honor us with a visit.” 

“Thank you, Colonel. I shall certainly arrange to bring them 
soon,” was the hearty response. 

“And oh, daddy! what a time Pauline and Zenda and I could 
have together here! She is such a charming girl; and if we hadn’t 
been in such a hurry to get home and see you all again, we’d have 
remained longer with them.” 

After breakfast, the three youngsters took their instruments 
and mounted their horses and set out to explore the place and see 
all its wonders; and oh, what a day of joy and music and love! 
Kel left the lovers alone enuff for them to enjoy the sweet and 
wordless joys of their new and wonderful love. Even Prince and 
Wingie understood and laffed in their sleeves; and all the birds 
seemed to know the news and rejoiced with them. And thus they 
wandered and loved and dreamed for a whole week, when Walden 
insisted he had to return home. He left his heart with Zenda and 
took hers home with him. He came again in two weeks and re¬ 
mained from Saturday night till Monday forenoon. 

The second week in August Zenda’s father rode up and made 
the Storms a three-days visit, and carried Zenda home with him. 
The Captain and the Colonel became staunch friends from the start 
and agreed on everything. 

Zenda had not yet named the wedding-day and in the mean¬ 
time she agreed to teach the school where Kel made such a hit with 
Jeremiah. They had not had any school for seven months on ac¬ 
count of the difficulty of getting a suitable teacher; and Zenda ac¬ 
cepted it more as a means of being with Kel than for any other 
reason. Her father was a large land-owner and well-to-do farmer: 
besides, Zenda had some money of her own that she had won on 
the races and from Van Auber. And then this would make it much 
easier for Walden to visit her. She returned the first week in Sep¬ 
tember to begin her school-work, and she was a hit from the start. 
The kids all loved her and the older boys would have loaned her 
their souls to walk on. 

On Walden’s second visit it was arranged for them to get mar¬ 
ried the following May, when her school would be out. 

During the holidays Zenda had a two-weeks vacation, and 
Walden came up and brought his parents and sister and they re¬ 
mained the guests of the Storms for a week, and oh, what a time of 
feasting and enjoyment! 


140 


RED KLOVER. 


Captain Vancefield and Colonel Storm were congenial from the 
start, and the old Sea Dog regaled them all with wonderful tales 
of his life on the river as a steamboat captain. There never was a 
more congenial party, and the week slipped away like a winged 
dream. 

The Storms returned the visit of the Vance ields early in May, 
just after Benda’s school was out, and they all enjoyed another de¬ 
lightful week together and on The Catfish almost every night. The 
Vancefields had a beautiful and wonderful place, and they all en¬ 
joyed themselves. 

Kel and Zenda persuaded the Vancefields to let Pauline return 
with them and to remain up there till the wedding took place, which 
would only be two weeks off; and oh, how happy she was, and what 
a beautiful time the three girls did have together helping Zen get 
ready for the event that would give Pauline a new sister! 

The Vancefields all came up to attend the wedding, and then 
carried Pauline home with them. 

Captain and Mrs. Woodbine came up for the event, and car¬ 
ried Walden and Zenda home with them for a week’s vist; and 
then Walden and Zen returned home via the Storms’ abode and 
paid them anothe: visit. 

Chapter XXIII. 

KUT’S SEARCH FOR BRINKLEY. 

It has been quite a while since we left Kut in Butte, Montana, 
and now we will return thither and see how the young man suc¬ 
ceeded in his search for the villain who robbed him of his precious 
little Canary—his own darling wife—and, besides that infamous act 
of treachery, robbed them of all their money with which they planned 
their home and future; and to think that he would be so lost to all 
instincts of humanity as to sell her to the White Slavers! Kut only 
had one object in living—now that his wife was gone beyond re¬ 
call—and that object was to avenge her wrongs and death. Such 
a hyena-serpent as Brinkley was not fit to live, and no jury in the 
world would convict him for ridding the word of such a scourge 
and menace. 

Kut had carefully disguised himself as a ruff miner with flam¬ 
ing red hair, and in the proper togs and with the usual tools and 
outfit of a prospecting miner, he strolled around Butte for about a 
month and looked the place over carefully for a clew to Brinkley. 
Finally he found that the skunk had been there and had procured 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 141 

a position in a big store, but had only remained about a week, when 
he was caught stealing from the company and summarily discharged. 
Of course, he left no trace behind him, but Kut reasoned that he 
would never return to the East, and especially not to Kentucky. So 
Kut packed up his kit of tools and moved on to Helena, the capital 
of the State, and a live and wide-open town, where life was free and 
easy—and money plentiful. He secured a room in a quiet part of 
the town, and began to comb the place for the bird of ill-omen he 
was seeking. On the third day he was rewarded with success. 

Mr. Brinkley was at the teller’s window in one of the city’s 
banks, but carefully disguised. Kut never thot of that contingency, 
and if it hadn’t been for a peculiarity of the rascal’s speech, he 
would have escaped recognition, for he had so altered his appear¬ 
ance that he appeared like a man in the early fifties. Kut winked 
the other eye, and realized that he was not the only one who had 
learned the art of disguise. 

Brinkley was known in the bank as Charles D. Webber, and by 
his courteous and pleasant ways and devotion to his duties was 
rapidly becoming popular. He also had considerable cash, it seemed, 
and had made a deposit in the bank of thirty thousand dollars. This 
fact also increased his popularity, and he was regarded as a man 
of large means who was seeking some good and safe investments, 
and who had taken a small position more to have something to do 
than anything else. It also gave the bank complete confidence in 
him, and he was soon trusted and widely introduced in business and 
social circles. He was a devout church attendant, and always at 
Sunday-school, where he taught a class of young men in the mys¬ 
teries of godliness and the beauties of an upright and Christian life. 
He was soon considered a model man; but he declined to talk about 
his antecedents, and merely stated that he had lost his wife and 
only dauter and it was a painful reminder of them and his happy 
home to speak of the past, therefore he preferred not to discuss the 
past, with its eternal shadows. This seemed so reasonable that his 
friends and acquaintances delicately refrained from thus wounding 
him. Oh, yes! he was a slicker all right; but every crook betrays 
himself sooner or later. He didn’t seem to care at all for the smiles 
and society of the fair sex, and this, in itself, was a good disguise 
for anyone who knew him. However, Kut soon satisfied himself 
that the cuss was preparing a coup of some kind, but was playing 
his hand with the skill of a master gambler. He always left the 
bank with the other officials and employees, and was quietly living 


142 


RED KLOVER. 


at the principal hotel—but two blocks away. He never went out 
at nights, and avoided the office and lobby. 

It puzzled Kut how to get at him and make a get-away at the 
same time. He couldn’t walk into the bank or hotel and simply 
shoot the skunk; that would mean his arrest and perhaps a long 
term of imprisonment or a lynching-bee on the spot. He must wait 
and watch Mr. Brinkley’s game and see if Fate wouldn’t let him 
sit in at a more favorable time. 

So Kut bought a burro and packed his prospecting outfit on 
the animal and lit out for the hills—apparently; in fact, he had a 
near-by place in which to conceal the animal while he altered his 
appearance and returned to town to watch Brinkley. How he hated 
to lose sight of the cuss! After a week of watching, he concluded 
to find a safe cave in the hills near the town and fit it up and have 
it handy when he needed a safe retreat in a hurry. He soon found 
an ideal place where Old Nick himself could not find it with an 
earthquake and a search-warrant. The entrance was completely 
covered by a thick growth of underbrush and trees and boulders, 
and by moving one of the big stones which was nicely balanced so 
it could be safely .and easily manipulated, he found a_cave that con¬ 
sisted of four big rooms that iust suited his purpose, for he could 
conceal his burro therein as well as himself; besides, he could fur¬ 
nish the place and do cooking and be quite comfortable. With th-. 
aid of his burro, he soon had the place nicely and comfortably 
furnished with plenty of blankets and bedding and cooking uten¬ 
sils, and well provisioned with plenty of grub and books to read, in 
case he was compelled to remain out of sight for a long time—after 
pulling off his stunt. 

Kut had become quite a student, and bad read and studied 
everything he could get hold of, and was fast becoming a scholar. 
He could now converse correctly and intelligently with the best of 
them; and when it came to dolling himself up and making a proper 
front, he was the candy kid itself—thanks to the barn-stormers. 
And he was rapidly learning the mining business, and had the bank¬ 
ing game pretty well in hand. He was rapidly becoming familiar 
with the ways of the police and other officials; in fact, he absorbed 
everything in the knowledge line and smacked his lips for more. 
He also found that he was popular with the women-folks wherever 
he went or worked. If it hadn’t been that his soul was . bent on 
vengeance, he might have remained up in Minnesota and hooked up 
with Valleja, the old farmer’s yinta, for fie saw that she was a fine 


143 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

girl and loyal to the ones she loved; and while he was a real gen¬ 
tleman and not a bit vain, he could not help seeing that the girl 
liked him and had given him every opportunity to play heart-mar¬ 
bles for keeps, if he was so inclined. 

Kut had that deep and inherent respect for all good women 
that Southerners have; and in the great and boundless West it is 
the first law of the land that all good women must be respected 
and defended, and Kut was ever ready to do his share in keeping 
that law intact. He had soundly thrashed a smart Alec and rounder 
in Minnesota when he was with the barn-stormers on account of 
the insinuating remark the cad had made about, a member of the 
company as she came out of the post-office one day. “Huh! that’s 
one of them show-girls—anybody can get next to them,” sang out 
the cur as the girl was quietly leaving the post-office. But Kut 
happened to be in the lobby at the time and overheard the un¬ 
manly remark. This sent Kut’s stock aw^ay up among the players 
and they were all admirers of him from then on. And when the 
marshal of the town reported the circumstances to the mayor, that 
individual sent his compliments to Kut and thanked him for his 
manliness. 

As Kut had considerable musical talent, he bought a banjo and 
guitar and took them to his rendezvous, so he could while away 
the lonely hours with music when he got tired of reading. He had 
rendered solos on these instruments when he was with the barn¬ 
stormers, and his skillful and original way of playing always brot 
him encores. Sometimes he would play with some of the others. 

Chapter XXIV. 

A SERIES OF MYSTERIOUS ROBBERIES. 

All over Montana and adjacent States there had been a series of 
bold and reckless train and bank robberies within the past six weeks, 
and the officers seemed utterly unable to apprehend the desperadoes. 
Sometimes a lone highwayman would suddenly appear in a town 
and during the noon hour walk into the bank and ask to have a bill 
of large denomination changed, and when the cashier or other clerk 
returned with the change he found himself gazing down the long 
and shining barrel of a .45, and politely he was asked to loan the 
holder of the gun all the funds the bank had on hand, and to please 
be quick about it. On other occasions there were two of them,' but 
they were always polite and used correct language, which indicated 
that they were men of education. Then, when the banks were all 


144 


RED KLOVER. 


closely guarded, they would suddenly change their plans a little and 
hold up a train or stage; but they always showed the same polite¬ 
ness and never used profanity, like the typical robber employs on 
such strenuous occasions. When their work was done, they always 
politely bade their victims good-day in perfect French. Their 
program of procedure was never varied, except in one case when 
they were holding up the stage, and a Jew drummer tried to ex¬ 
postulate to them in the Yiddish tongue, and then they scowled at 
him and cussed him in excellent Spanish. It was always two of 
them or one operating by himself—never more, and their methods 
were almost precisely alike. As soon as their work was completed 
they immediately disappeared, as tho the earth were in cahoots with 
them and swallowed them up. 

Two people were particularly puzzled by these mysterious rob¬ 
beries and the unusual manner in which the deeds were accom¬ 
plished—Mr. Ralph Brinkley and Mr. Kut Badd. At first. Kut be¬ 
lieved that the lone highwayman was Brinkley, but he soon learned 
that Brinkley had been at his post at the same time the lone op¬ 
erator had pulled off a robbery one hundred or more miles away. 
Of course, Brinkley did not dream that Kut had ever done such a 
thing as rob a bank or hold up a train and he had no idea that Kut 
was in the West. Brinkley was nervous on account of his own de¬ 
posit, and he feared to rob the bank and try to skip, as he was plan¬ 
ning, for fear the train on which he was getting away would be 
robbed and he would lose it all at one fell swoop. The rascal was 
in a quandary, and his nervousness was becoming plainly apparent. 
He also feared to withdraw his funds at that particular time, for 
he knew it would cause considerable comment and possibly sus¬ 
picion, and above all things he didn’t want anyone to suspect him 
just then. “Fetchtake the blamed fools anyway!” he murmured 
to himself one evening when he reached his room and began to read 
another thrilling account of a bank held up in a near-by town. 

Another thing that was worrying the rascal and causing con¬ 
sternation in banking circles was the fact that the people all over 
the State were withdrawing their deposits from the banks, lest they 
might lose them by a bank robbery. Everybody was blaming the 
officers and calling them a lot of mollycoddles and incompetents. 
Why didn’t they catch these gentlemanly outlaws? What were 
they doing to earn their salaries? and like queries. “Perhaps 
they were dividing with the outlaws,” suggested one man who had 
jost about thirteen hundred dollars in a bank robbery and was very 


145 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

much disgusted with the officers. Anyway, the people were getting 
panic-stricken and desperate. 

On a certain Friday the officers of the banks in four near-by 
towns had sent the bulk of their deposits, amounting to about three 
hundred thousand dollars, to the Helena National Bank for safe 
keeping, believing that the outlaws would hardly dare attack that 
bank and^right under the shadow of the State-house and under the 
Governor’s eyes. This was a streak of good luck that Brinkley had 
not foreseen nor dreamed of, and he chuckled to himself with ex¬ 
treme satisfaction when he learned of it. He had just recently been 
promoted to cashier and now was one of the leading spirits in Hel¬ 
ena s banking circles. This bank was also one of the depositories 
of several of the big mining companies and smelters, so it was non 
in a rather plethoric condition, and Brinkley realized that the hour 
for him to act had arrived. 

The president of the bank had been called home at noon the 
next day, Saturday, by the illness of his wife, and would not be 
back any more that day. He asked Brinkley to stay and see that 
everything was properly locked up and put to rights before leaving. 
This was Brinkley’s long-waited-for opportunity and he seized it 
like a hungry trout does a worm. He managed to slip out four 
hundred thousand dollars and carried it to his room. That night 
he intended to pull his freight and blow quietly away. 

That very Saturday Kut blew into the bank just before closing 
time to get a twenty-dollar bill changed, and he noticed how very 
nervous Brinkley appeared to be and how he furtively watched his 
two clerks. Kut had also learned in some way about the heavy 
deposits of the naboring banks the day previous, and his astute 
mind soon realized that Brinkley would not let such an opportu¬ 
nity slip by. Kut also knew the time of every train and stage in 
and out of Helena, for it was a part of his business to know these 
little details. A fast train was due to pass there at 2 o’clock a. m., 
and Kut would have bet his last dollar that Mr. Brinkley would 
be a passenger on it, but in another disguise; so he hurriedly 
made his arrangements to also go bye-bye on that toot-toot; and, 
as usual, he had bet on the right nag again. 

Kut had disguised himself as a prosperous cattleman about 
sixty years of age, and assumed the proper and careless swagger 
of the cattlemen of that day. Here his theatrical training stood 
him well in hand again. 

Kut swaggered back thru the two Pullmans, and soon located 


RED KLOVER. 


146 

his bird, who was carelessly enjoying a daily newspaper and seemed 
to have no cares in all this world of cares. His lazy and careless 
indifference was well assumed, and Kut did not know for certain 
that he was really Brinkley, and he must be sure. He went on 
back in the smoking compartment, and soon found the big black 
porter busy with his duties. 

“Say, porter, how would you like to have this twenty-dollar 
gold-piece rattling around in your pocket?” asked Kut. 

“Golly, boss! yuh all’s foolin’ wid me, I guess,” replied the 
porter. 

“No, indeed, I’m not fooling with you, Sam,” said Kut. 

“How’s yuh all know my name’s Sam?” asked the negro in 
bewilderment. 

“Oh! I just guessed it, Sam,” replied Kut. “Now look ahere: 
you take a peep in the car up there and see if you see that old cat¬ 
tleman up there on the left.” 

“Shuah, boss,” continued Sam; “I’se done looked him ober 
before yuh come.” 

“Now listen, Sam,” explained Kut, “I’m going up there and 
take the second seat back of him, and after a little while you come 
putterin’ around and commence fixin’ up some of the berths, and 
by a very awkward movement manage to stumble and fall ker¬ 
plunk over on him, and then beg his pardon and apologize and try 
to keep him in conversation as long as you can. That’s all, Sam, 
and then the twenty-dollar gold-piece will be yours.” 

“But what’s yuh all want me ter do such a foolish thing as 
dat fer?” asked Sam. “Besides, ther old duffer might shoot my 
whole block off.” 

“Never mind what my object is,” continued Kut; “and I’ll 
be on hand to see that he don’t do anything more serious than swear 
a little.” 

Then Kut swaggered in and ker-plunked himself down in the 
seat back of Brinkley, who was also made up as a prosperous and 
elderly cattleman from Wyoming. He spread out a paper and pro¬ 
ceeded to read. 

Sam soon appeared and gave Kut a sly wink, and then caught 
his foot in the aisle carpet and sure did do an elegant job of falling 
all over Brinkley. The rascal was so completely taken by surprise 
that he forgot himself and blurted out in his own natural tone of 
voice and did call that darkey down properly. Sam was profuse in 
his apologies, and soon had the irate man partly pacified. Brink- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 147 

ley jumped up and went in the lavatory to rearrange his tie and 
make-up, which had become slightly disarranged. 

As soon as Brinkley was gone, Kut slipped the twenty-dollar 
gold-piece to Sam and also three more twenties, and whispered to 
Sam to go back in the vestibule between the Pullmans and pull 
the cord and stop the train as soon as he heard a shot, and have 
the doors ready to swing open. The darkey looked scared, but Kut 
threatened to kill him if he disobeyed in the least or said a word 
to anybody. 

Brinkley soon returned and spoke pleasantly to Kut and laffed at 
the porter’s awkwardness. It just happened that the car had only 
one other passenger and he was calmly snoring up near the front 
end and did not hear the rumpus. 

Kut whipped out his Bowie-knife and grabbed Brinkley by the 
throat with lightning quickness, and hissed in bis startled face: 
“Brinkley 1 you damned scoundrel! I’ve found you at last, and you 
are still up to your old tricks!” Then he plunged the awful knife 
up to the hilt in the scoundrel’s black and crooked heart, and it 
was all over with Mr. Ralph Brinkley. He sank a bleeding and 
quivering mass of flesh to the floor, and expired instantly. 

On hearing the altercation, Sam had peeped in and witnessed 
the ghastly spectacle, and his terrified eyes bulged like four moons 
all rising on the same schedule. 

“He deserved it, Sam,” said Kut, “and if you don’t keep still 
about it, I’ll cut yourjblack throat from ear to collar-button. Re¬ 
member, you never saw this at all. Here is a hundred-dollar bill; 
and pull that cord and get the doors open for me quick, for I forgot 
something and must go back and get it.” Then Kut gathered up 
the two leather suit-cases Brinkley had stuffed full of money, and 
dropped from the train. As soon as he was off, Sam signaled to 
go ahead 

In about five minutes the conductor and brakeman came back 
to find out who stopped the train and why it had been done. They 
had already ascertained from the engineer that he had received the 
proper signals to stop and to start again. 

Sam was. curled up in the smoking apartment and snoring 
like a sixteen-cylinder buzz-saw eating its way thru a knotty hick¬ 
ory log. He didn’t even know the train had stopped; and how 
astonished and terror-stricken Sam was when the conductor took 
him in the coach and pointed to the dead man! 

“And here you were asleep on duty and did not know that a 


148 


RED KLOVER. 


passenger had been killed and the train stopped by the murderer 
so he could get off,” said the conductor. 

“Some porter, you are!” sneered the brakeman, who did not 
like Sam. 

“Can’t help it,” apologized Sam; “there wuz nuffin’ tu do, as 
the two gemmens said they didn’t wish to sleep, but preferred to 
sit up and read; and I wuz powerful sleepy,” went on the black. 

When the conductor and brakeman had gone forward, Sam 
felt of those precious gold-pieces and that velvety one-hundred- 
dollar bill, and chuckled to himself: “Huh! just wait till I get 
back tuh St. Paul—but won’t I show dem tinhohns down at der 
Ryan Hotel how ter roll de bones!” 

“Dem tinhohns” were the colored porters and waiters at the 
Ryan hostelry, with whom Sam usually shot craps when he was 
off duty and had two bits to sit in the game. Sam now felt like a 
real sure-enuff sport with all that dough in his jeans, and only 
had contempt for pikers—the gamblers who matched pennies or 
pitched coppers for the cracks. 

The corpse was carried on to Butte and there turned over to 
the coroner and authorities, but none could identify it; then it 
was shipped back to Helena, where the bank officials finally iden¬ 
tified it as their missing cashier—Charles D. Webber. His surrep¬ 
titious flight in the middle of the night and the taking of all his 
belongings was evidence that it was he who looted their bank; but 
who was the Nemesis that so suddenly overtook the rascal and meted 
out to him such summary justice? That was the question in every 
mouth, but no answer was forthcoming. Some allowed it was the 
lone highwayman, but it was totally lacking in any of the ear¬ 
marks of his work; besides, it was as plain as day that robbery 
was not the object of the attack, for Brinkley’s gold watch and dia¬ 
mond stud were not taken, neither were the other passengers mo¬ 
lested. It was a mystery that continued to mist. And further¬ 
more, no trace of the murderer and the missing money could be 
found. The earth just seemed to have swallowed him up. Pos¬ 
ses were out all over the State searching for him and the other 
three robbers, but no results were obtained. 

Kut had very closely estimated about how long it would take 
him to get Brinkley and leave the train, and as the train was run¬ 
ning eastward and right in the direction of Kut’s rendezvous, which 
was about twenty miles out from Helena, and in a very wild part 
of the foot-hills, he had secreted his faithful burro at about the 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


149 


right place. When he left the train, he only had about a quarter 
of a mile to go to reach his pack-animal. Some close reckoning, eh? 
Well, Kut was noted fgr his astuteness and abilities to make es¬ 
timates and pick winners. He quickly strapped the two big suit¬ 
cases on the burro and packed his other purchases and blankets 
carefully over them, so he had all the appearances of a bona fide 
prospector. As he only had about five miles to travel back in the 
hills, it didn’t take him long to make camp and soon have a steam¬ 
ing hot dinner ready. After his meal, Kut carefully opened the 
valises and counted the money, and it totaled up to a little over 
four hundred and forty-five thousand dollars! 

“Whew!” whistled Kut to himself, as he folded his arms and 
viewed the piles and piles of greenbacks and bank-notes and gold- 
pieces. “But, Kut, old boy, as Brinkley has paid the penalty of 
his crimes, this money must all be returned to the bank—even if 
you do run your neck in the halter by returning it and making ex¬ 
planations.” And then he sat down and picked up his guitar and 
began to softly and reminiscently play some of the old love-songs 
that he and Canary often played together. “It was an awful job, 
but it had to be done,” he said; and then he threw himself down 
among the great soft blankets and soon was sleeping soundly and 
contentedly. 

The following Saturday he was up early and, with his pack- 
mule, was soon wending his way to town for supplies and news. 
The weather was now very cold, and considerable snow was on the 
ground and more falling. He laid in a good stock of supplies, and 
got all the papers for the past week and several novels and other 
reading matter, and then slowly meandered his way back home, 
as he facetiously called his cave. He soon devoured the papers and 
learned that Brinkley had only been identified as “Webber,” and 
as his antecedents were unknown, it was presumed that it was his 
first and only offense. The bank gave him decent burial; and the 
event was slowly passing into history as another unsolved mystery. 

If the bank only had its money back, they could almost feel 
sorry for the erring cashier and revere his memory. How to return 
it and extricate himself was some problem, we must admit, and 
Kut was taking some time to think it over from every angle, and 
the more he pondered the more difficult it seemed. 

After about two weeks of silence, the three bold and polite 
highwaymen resumed their operations, and seemed bolder and more 
tantalizing than ever. They even relieved the sheriff of his official 


RED KLOVER. 


150 

badge and credentials one day when they held up the stage on 
which that brave officer was a passenger. Before leaving, they of¬ 
fered him cigars and kindly advised him to,try and get a job herd¬ 
ing sheep. This was the limit in insolence and polite badinage, and 
the sheriff vowed all sorts of vengeance on their heads, for he be¬ 
came the butt of ridicule for all the joke-smths, and his humiliating 
experience was a sweet morsel for his political opponents-—as the 
sheriff was out for re-election. If they could only get the man 
who killed Webber out after these bold and taunting outlaws, they 
might hope for success; but Kut was out of the heart-cutting busi¬ 
ness and deeply regretted that he ever had to resort to it. The 
awful look of fear and terror on Brinkley’s face and the unutterable 
groan that escaped him as the knife pierced his craven heart still 
persisted in haunting Kut’s mind and dreams. It’s a terrible thing 
to have to take human life, but sometimes it seems necessary. 

We shall now ask our readers to leave Kut alone With his prob¬ 
lems for awhile, and accompany us back to the dear old Ozarks, 
for our friends down there are making history at a rapid pace. 

Chapter XXV. 

WALDEN AND ZENDA GO TO MONTANA. 

Walden and his bride returned to the old Vancefield mansion 
near the White River, as his father and mother simply would not 
hear of their going elsewhere to live. 

“We’ve just gained another dauter, Walden, and as there is 
plenty and oceans of room here for us all, it would be so cruel for 
you all to go off and leave us;” and poor Mrs. Vancefield and the 
Captain looked so distressed at the very thot of losing Walden and 
Zenda that they decided to stay—“for awhile anyway,” consented 
Walden, and Zenda agreed with him. Then the Captain and his 
wife and Pauline all tried at the same time to squeeze Walden and 
Zenda to death. 

“It’s certainly sweet of you all to care so much for us,” blushed 
Zenda as she hid her pretty head on Walden’s breast and slipped 
an arm around Pauline and just sighed with happiness; and then 
the Captain and his wife took her in their arms and just squeezed 
and loved her until she was ready to cry with delight. 

“And it’s more than sweet of you to come back to us and be 
our dauter and help comfort us in our declining days,” softly blurt¬ 
ed the Captain, and his wife echoed his sentiments, and said she 
had always wanted another dauter. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


iSi 

“And Walden,” pouted Pauline, “you’re just not going to have 
my new sister all to your old selfish self, either. I’m to have her 
half of the time.” And Pauline just picked Zenda up in her arms 
and started to carry her away. 

So it was arranged, and the youngsters settled down to a per¬ 
fect honeymoon of unalloyed bliss and sweet contentment. Every 
three months they would ride up to the Storm home and visit Kel 
and her folks, or Kel would ride down to the Vancefields and visit 
them, and between times they exchanged letters ^every week, and 
oh, what letters they did write! About seven months after Zen 
was married, in one of her letters *to Kel, she added the following 
postscript: 

“Oh! Kel dear, what do you think? Wingie has the cutest 
little colt that ever kicked holes in the atmosphere and the little 
rascal is just the living image of Prince , so we’ve named him Prince 
Fleetfoot II. And Wingie is just the proudest and happiestdittle 
mother that ever pulled grass for a living! And the little rascal 
comes right up to us and rubs his dainty little nose against Walden 
and me just like Prince used to do. I know you’ll just want to 
squeeze him. Zen.” 

This was news indeed^to Kel, but only provoked a broad smile 
from the Colonel. 

The following fall they finally prevailed on Kel to take up 
the school for them and at least teach it until they could procure 
a teacher. She finally consented; and of course the pupils all loved 
her from the start and they made phenomenal progress under her 
tutelage. 

About two years after Zen’s marriage, she and Walden were 
sent to Montana to look after some valuable mining interests of the 
Vancefields that greatly needed a manager. The former manager 
had been killed in a mine accident, and the mine was going to ruin 
for the lack of a head to direct its affairs. Captain Vancefield de¬ 
clared that he was too old for such a strenuous < undertaking, and 
urged Walden to go. 

“What do you say. little sweetheart?” asked Walden of his wife. 

“Why, I say let’s go, dear. It will be quite a novel trip for 
us, and I’m sure the experience will be well worth having; besides, 
it is your father’s wish and our duty.” 

“Brave little girl!” exclaimed the Captain, and he gathered 


152 


RED KLOVER. 


her to his old heart and squeezed her with the vim of a cinnamon 
bear. 

So it was arranged for them to start at once—the sooner the 
better. They rode over via the Storms and made them a brief visit, 
and Kel and her father accompanied them to Springfield, where 
they got a train for the great Boundless West. They rested a day 
in Kansas City, a day in Omaha, and two days in St. Paul, and 
again two days in Butte, and then on to Helena, near which city 
the mine was located. 

The West was a revelation to them—devoid of frills and cam¬ 
ouflage, but an air of comradeship and easy good-nature greeted 
them everywhere. The people were all so friendly and broad¬ 
minded that the youngsters liked them; and soon they were com¬ 
fortably domiciled in a little cabin all to themselves. 

Walden found the mine indeed going to the dogs, but his skill¬ 
ful management soon changed matters, and in about a month it 
was paying big dividends again and rapidly rising in value. 

When they arrived in Montana, they soon learned of the strange 
and mysterious robberies that were baffling everybody. 

“ Pshaw 1 ” exclaimed Zen one evening when Walden returned 
from the mine and handed her a paper containing a vivid account 
of the latest exploits of the gentlemanly bandits. “If Kel were only 
here, she and I would go out and bring in these fresh guys;” and 
she sneered at the officers they had in that State. 

“I really believe you two would turn the trick,” jokingly re¬ 
turned her husband. 

About a month later the fleeing cashier was killed, and the sub¬ 
ject was again revived, with added interest. 

“Walden, I’m going to write to Kel and ask her to come out 
and visit us, and then we’ll show these tame cats what a couple of 
real bob-cats from the Ozarks can do;” and her teeth snapped like 
the jaws of a bob-cat as it jumps for a dog. 

“That will be great, sweetheart mine; besides, we are both just 
dying to see a face from home.” 

So it was settled, and Zen immediately wrote a long letter to 
Kel and sent her a number of clippings from the papers and fully 
acquainted her with the state of affairs in Montana. 

Kel was delighted, for she was getting rusty for some new es¬ 
capades; besides, Zen’s letters had fired her with a desire to see the 
wonderful country that produced so much of the gold of the world. 
She had really never been anywhere except to Nashville and the 


153 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

Springfield fair, and her proud and venturesome spirit longed for 
new laurels. She carefully refrained from telling her parents about 
the bold highwaymen and why Zen wanted her to come. If thfe 
elder Storms had known of that, Kel felt sure she would never get 
away. She was just going to visit Zenda and would soon return— 
and perhaps bring Zen and Walden with her; so it was arranged, 
and the Colonel carried her to Springfield to take the train, and to 
return with her precious Prince Fleetfloot. Her father faithfully 
promised that the wonderful pony should have the best of care. 
It was like pulling cling-stone teeth for Kel to go away on a journey 
and not be riding Prince; and the little fellow seemed disconsolate 
at returning without his beloved mistress. 

Chapter XXVI. 

KEL’S TRIP TO THE WEST. 

As Zen had told Kel just how to come and all about the route 
and the changes she would have to make, it was an easy matter for 
the Little Suff. to make the journey alone. 

As she wished to avoid attracting attention to herself, when 
she arrived in Kansas City she procured some disguises and the 
necessary make-up materials, and with a few deft and skillful touch¬ 
es she converted herself into a quiet middle-aged woman, who would 
never win a prize at a beauty shqw. The rest of the way she made 
no mashes, and was left severely alone, like a house with a smallpox 
sign on the door. 

She observed one rather vain and conceited young boob trying 
hard to butt-in with a pretty and modest little girl, who was trav¬ 
eling alone between Omaha and St. Paul. This amused Kel, and 
she decided to have a little fun with the coxcomb. After he had 
been repeatedly snubbed by the young lady, he returned to an 
empty seat just back of her and from which he could feast his shifty 
eyes on his prey. Kel got up and got a drink at the far end of the 
coach, and as she returned to her seat she quietly sat down in the 
seat with him and began: 

“Ah! good evening, my friend. I see that you are lonesome, 
and as I am in the same boat, I thot that possibly we might find 
something interesting to talk about;” and Kel looked him steadily 
in the eyes. 

He wavered and stammered and made a few disjointed replies to 
her questions, and then got up and remarked: 

“Excuse me, madam, but my nerves feel the need of a smoke, 


154 


RED KLOVER. 


and I’m going up in the smoker to enjoy a pipe or two,” and he was 
off like a shot. 

“Very well, but we can resume our conversation when you re¬ 
turn;” and Kel gave him a look that puzzled him greatly. 

He must have enjoyed his pipe, for he did not return at all. 

The little girl was astonished at the conduct of Kel and looked 
at her quizzically. Kel went over and slid in beside her and said in 
her sweetest tones: 

“Don’t be astonished, dear. I just wanted to get rid of that 
cad and save you from being bored and annoyed by his attentions;” 
and Kel turned her great pansy and lustrous eyes full on the girl’s 
face and smiled. 

That settled it. The girl capitulated at once and replied: 

“Oh! I thank you, madam. He was annoying me dreadfully, 
and I disliked to call the conductor and make a scene;” and the 
poor little thing seemed so glad to find a friend at hand. 

“I am Miss Edith Volney,of St. Joseph, Missouri, and I am 
on my way to St. Paul to visit Uncle Richard, mamma’s oldest 
brother;” and she beamed on Kel with a look of gratitude that was 
pathetic. 

“And I am Miss Storm, of Missouri, and I am pleased to know 
you, Miss Volney. I don’t think your admirer will trouble you 
any more,” continued Kel; and then they fell to, and were soon 
passing the time very pleasantly. 

“You must be a teacher, Miss Storm,” ventured the young 
lady after awhile, “for you seem so well posted on everything.” 

“Yes, I teach a little,” admitted Kel. 

Just before the train reached St. Paul, the boob came back to 
the coach, and Kel knew from the way he looked at the girl he 
meant to follow her. She acquainted Miss Volney with her sus¬ 
picions, but cautioned her not to pay any attention to him and to 
act like she had never seen him before. 

“Just leave him to me, dear, for I’m going to teach that bounder 
a lesson he won’t soon forget,” said Keldora. 

“Are you going to call an officer and have him arrested?” anx¬ 
iously inquired the girl. 

“Oh, no!” replied Keldora; “it would hardly be worth while' 
to waste the officer’s time on such a snake. Just trust in me, dear, 
and you will see some fun before you get to your uncle’s. I’m 
going with you all the way and see you safely there, so don’t worry.” 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 155 

“It is awfully good of you, Miss Storm, to befriend me—an 
entire stranger;” and the girl looked her gratitude. 

And sure enuff the sneaking cur was cautiously trailing them, 
but at a distance. After they reached the residence district and 
the houses were fewer and far apart, he increased his gait and was 
soon up with them. He strode right up and sang out: 

“And this is the way you treat your husband /” and he reached 
out to clasp her arm. 

The poor girl was sure terror-stricken, for she had never heard 
of such impudence. His hand had hardly touched her wrist when 
something happened. The quickness of its movements might cause 
it to be taken for a bob-cat in action. It was only our old friend 
Keldora again, but the Lord knows that was quite enuff. Kel 
made a jump for him and with lightning rapidity grabbed his wrist 
in her right hand and give it such a quick and powerful twist he 
keeled over and lighted on his head and groaned with pain. She 
had dislocated his wrist with her jiu-jitsu twist. He scrambled up 
on his feet, and the way he beat it would have made Dan Patch 
or Maud S. turn green with envy; and he may be going yet for all 
I know. 

“He is a yellow one all right, dear,” quietly remarked Kel as 
they resumed their way in the gathering darkness. 

They soon arrived at Uncle Richard’s, and Kel was presented 
and received a warm welcome from the bluff and hearty old gentle¬ 
man: and when he heard the story from his niece’s lips, he was 
speechless with amazement and insisted that Kel come in and be 
their guest for the night, as she was not going on till late the next 
day. His wife seconded the invitation so ardently that Kel decided 
to accept their hospitality. 

“But how in the world did you manage to do such a clever 
trick and at your age?” asked Mr. Burton. 

Kel just faffed and laffed before she replied: “Perhaps, Mr. 
Burton, I’m not so aged as I appear to be;” and Kel laffed again. 

“Well, of course, I can’t always tell a woman’s age like I can 
a horse’s,” said Mr. Burton, “but I should put you at about fifty- 
seven.” 

“Why, father!” remonstrated Mrs. Burton; “don’t you know 
that it is very impolite to state a woman’s age?” 

“That’s all right, Mrs. Burton,” returned Keldora; “but we 
all err at times. I’m just twenty-one and getting younger every 
day.” And then she laffed again as they all stared in bewilderment. 


RED KLOVER. 


156 


“You see, my friends,” said Keldora, “I’ll have to let you into 
a little secret. I’m just twenty-one and making a long journey 
alone, and in order to avoid being annoyed by such animals who 
consider themselves men, I have disguised myself until I look like 
all of fifty-seven, and it works like a charm. Why, I even sat down 
in the seat with that boob after he had annoyed your niece a long 
while, and tried to scrape up a conversation with him, and you ought 
to see the way he turned me down cold and lit out for the smoker.” 

“It was sure some fun, Uncle Richard,” said Edith, “to see 
him slide out and get away when he thot he was being cornered by 
a middle-aged woman.” 

“Well, I’ll be d—!” 

“Father!” broke in his wife, just in time, “you must be careful 
of your language while he have such a clever guest.” 

“Well, mother, it certainly beats anything I ever heard of,” 
continued Mr. Burton. 

“It’s certainly very clever, uncle/’ said Miss Volney, “and I 
hope Miss Storm will humor us all by removing her disguise and ap¬ 
pearing as her proper self.” 

“Yes, indeed, miss, we must see you as yourself, for I know 
you’re a wonderful girl anyway,” said Mr. Burton. 

“Very well, Edith; if you will show me to my room, I’ll humor 
you all,” replied Keldora. 

Kel was shown to a neat little room and provided with every¬ 
thing in the way of toilet articles. In about five minutes she ap¬ 
peared among them all, and the old man just jumped in the air and 
exclaimed: 

“ Sufferin' catfish! Is it possible? Why, she isn’t out of the 
teens yet, mother!” and he just simply gasped and collapsed. 

After supper Kel seated herself at the piano and began to play 
and sing as only a master artist can, and then the old man exploded 
again: 

“For Heaven’s sake, miss! is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Oh! I presume so, but I might learn it,” replied Keldora. 

And then they all fell to and had a most enjoyable evening. 

The old man was an old river man, but hearty and honest, and 
had seen a good deal of this world, but nothing like Keldora. They 
all fell in love with the Little Suff. and carried her to the stopo the 
next day and saw her off. She had resumed her disguise and it was 
a wonder to them all. 

At Butte she decided to stop off and rest a day and see some- 



THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 157 

thing of a real mining camp; and, owing to her disguise, she had no 
trouble at all. 

After leaving Butte, she slipped into the lavatory and removed 
her disguise and appeared in her proper person. 

Everyone was discussing the latest train and bank robberies 
and speculating on who the strange and fantastic outlaws might be. 
Kel listened carefully to all these tales and had also read the papers, 
which teemed with the accounts. 

“I don’t know what we’d all do if those dreadful bandits should 
hold us up,” nervously moaned a big overgrown slob of a man, who 
only weighed about 275 pounds and looked strong enuff to whip his 
weight in wildcats. 

“Oh! I subbose ve’d all throw up our hands and shell out like 
ve always do,” facetiously replied a little Hebrew, who had most 
of the hall-marks of the East Side on him. He was just whistling, 
so to speak, to cover up his own nervousness, and Kel saw thru it 
at once. 

“There are twenty-six men in this coach,” quietly observed 
the Little Sufi., “and surely you all wouldn’t be yellow enuff to 
stick up your paws and surrender to one or two nervy boobs, would 
you ? ” 

This shot got under several hides at once, as Kel intended It to, 
and the little Jew remarked: 

“Berhaps ze young lady can catch ze bad mans!” and this got 
quite a laff at her expense, as he figured it would. 

“Well, you brave lads just wait and see what ‘ze young lady’ 
can do,” and she mimicked him so perfectly they all encored her. 
“I should like nothing better than to get a chance at these funny 
bandits;” and she gave them all such a look as they had never 
seen before. 

“Whew!” whistled an elderly-looking gentleman near the cen¬ 
ter of the car, “but the child certainly has confidence in herself.” 

This also brot a laff at our shero’s expense; but she wasn’t caring 
about expenses just then. 

“And self-confidence is an essential to success,” quietly shot back 
our shero. 

This truism could not be gainsaid; and they all dropped the 
outlaws for a while and set to discussing Keldora and wondering 
who she was. Her exquisite beauty and refined and cultured bear¬ 
ing bore testimony to her station in life, and they all forbore to 
taunt her any further. 


RED KLOVER. 


158 


The train was now within about thirty miles of Helena and just 
creeping along, as the snow was drifting over the tracks so fast it 
was not safe to run any faster; it was also about four hours late. 
The hour was about 11:40, and many of the passengers had yielded 
to the fatigue of the long and tedious ride and had dozed olf into 
broken sleep. 

All at once two masked men entered the front of the coach and 
sent a shot over the passengers’ heads to frighten them and gain 
their attention simultaneously. Then the foremost bandit bowed 
and politely announced that they were collecting the income‘tax, 
and hoped there were no slackers aboard. He carried a strong and 
capacious black sack, into which he invited the contributions to be 
dropped, and in his right hand he held a cocked .45 revolver that 
was devoid of all sentiment or camouflage. His companion was 
also well bred, and politely bowed and announced that it always 
grieved him very much to have to shoot anyone, so he hoped they 
would remember their manners and conduct themselves accordingly. 
“And if you have any artillery,” politely explained the first speaker, 
“it will probably be best to forget that you have it; besides, if you 
tried to use your artillery in this dim light, you would be just as 
likely to hit each other as to punctuate us;” and he bowed again 
and smiled. 

Every hand in that coach except Kel’s was in the air and most of 
them trembling like an aspen leaf on which a spider was cake-walking. 
She immediately slid down between the seats and out of sight as soon 
as she caught a glimpse of the outlaws and waited till the opening 
ceremonies were over, as she wanted to hear all they had to say. 
Then “Bang!” boomed her six-shooter, and the first speaker went 
down and out with a well-aimed bullet thru his heart. The other 
one was plainly rattled, for he began to fire wildly and at random 
down the aisle, but only succeeded in wounding two of the passen¬ 
gers slightly. “Crack!” and again Kel’s six-shooter made an an¬ 
nouncement, and the other outlaw jumped in the air and yelled 
with pain and terror as he grabbed his helpless right hand, thru 
which Kel had very cleverly sent a bullet. In his embarrassment 
and terror he had dropped his other gun, and before he realized it 
she was in front of him and had her gun in his face and was telling 
him to be easy and not get rattled. Then, with the agility and 
quickness of melted lightning, she grabbed his left wrist and gave it 
a sudden jiu-jitsu twist that flopped the astonished gentleman over 
on his head and face, and he let out another howl of pain and terror 


i59 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

and begged to be spared, for he thot his time had surely come. Kel 
placed one tiny foot on his shoulders and held her ever-ready six- 
shooter at his head, and calmly directed the conductor and brakeman, 
who had just arrived from the smoker, to get a rope, so she could 
tie her guest in order to prevent him from jumping off and injuring 
himself. She soon had monsieur properly trussed up, and then she 
turned to the bewildered passengers and dryly remarked: 

“Thi s is about the yellowest crowd of boobs I ever saw,” and 
her sarcasm was something withering. 

Not a word from any of them. Then she turned to the old 
gentleman and mockingly asked: 

“Daddy, what do you think of the child’s self-confidence now?” 
and the way she put the emphasis on the word “child” put them 
all back in a normal condition again, and they all wanted to talk 
at once, and demanded to know who she was and where she hailed 
from. 

“I’m just a little country schoolmam from old Missouri, and 
am known at home as ‘The Suffrajet..’ I was raised down in the 
Ozarks among the bob-cats and bears and moonshiners, and of 
course I learned to shoot a little as a pastime. I have saved you 
boobs from being cleaned out, and have done what the whole State 
has failed to do, and all because I have no yellow in me, but plenty 
of self-confidence.” And she turned her glorious Ozark eyes full on 
the old gentleman again and mocked his tone and manner so per¬ 
fectly that they all encored her. 

Everybody wanted her picture, and the little Hebrew even of¬ 
fered five dollars for it. 

“You poor little Jerusalem boob! I’m not selling my photos 
for a living;” and she gave him a look that put him down and out 
in a hurry. 

After the wounded outlaw was securely tied and harmless, the 
conductor and brakeman wanted to take him up in the smoker and 
keep him under guard until they reached Helena, but Kel informed 
them that he was her prisoner and was going to remain right there 
where he was and that she would guard him herself, and she gave 
the trainmen such a look that they immediately bowed and acqui¬ 
esced. She set to work and dressed his wounds and made him as 
comfortable as possible. 

Everybody on the train wanted to crowd in and see the des¬ 
perate man and the little girl who had so cleverly and bravely ef- 


i6o 


RED KLOVER . 


fected his capture, but Kel ordered the conductor to lock the doors 
and keep them out, for she didn’t care to be stared to death. 

When the train pulled in Kel was met by Walden and Zen, 
and they were quickly informed of the capture, and accompanied 
her and the trainmen with the prisoner to the police station, where 
he was turned over to the authorities, and a brief account given of 
his capture and the killing of his pal by the little girl all alone and 
unaided, while the twenty-six brave men in the coach all vied with 
one another to see who could reach his hands up nearest to the roof 
of the car. 

Tt^e thing was unheard of; and the news soon spread every¬ 
where, and the papers had to use telegraph poles for type and ex¬ 
clamation points in writing it up and praising “the Little Suff. from 
Missouri,” as she immediately became known. 

The next day all the officials, including the Governor and his 
staff, called on her and tendered their thanks and insisted on hon¬ 
oring her in every way imaginable. 

The rewards for the two men amounted to more than thirty 
thousand dollars, and this was turned over to Kel along with sev¬ 
eral gold medals for her bravery. 

The Governor and the city together gave a big reception to Kel, 
and everybody who was anybody was there to see the shero and do 
her honor. The Governor led the grand march with Kel on his arm, 
and then came the Mayor with Zenda for his partner, and Walden 
had the Governor’s wife for his partner. It was some affair all 
right, and passed into history as the greatest event of the State. 

When it was learned that Zen was just as great a shot and dare¬ 
devil as her mate, and it was she who was to blame for bringing 
Kel out there, she also became a shero, and shone with rare splendor. 

When it was learned that the girls were rare musicians, they 
had to play and sing, and then the whole assemblage just simply 
went mad over them. 

The Governor’s son and half a dozen of the most prominent 
men of the State tried to propose to Kel, but she deftly side-stepped 
them all and just laffed at them. 

As they had a shooting club near Helena, Kel and Zenda prom¬ 
ised to attend the following week and show them how the girls of 
the Ozarks can shoot. This was the big event in the history of 
the club, and the girls easily defeated all their best shots; and when 
both 'girls gave the apple exhibition, like Kel demonstrated to Van 
Auber, they were all dumbfounded. And invitations came from 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 161 

all over the Northwest for them to stop over let the people see 
them and give an exhibition of shooting. A theatrical manager in 
St. Paul wired an offer of three thousand dollars if they would give 
one entertainment of music and shooting in his house. They de¬ 
clined all such offers; and Kel turned the thirty thousand dollars 
reward money over to the city of Helena to found and endow a 
hospital. 

On the night of the big ball and reception the wounded out¬ 
law made his escape and was never heard of again. Kel did rub 
this piece of carelessness and incompetency in on the officials. 

“Why, gentlemen, you’re very lucky he didn’t kidnap some 
of you,” mocked the little devil in her finest vein of humor and 
sarcasm. 

They wanted to elect her mayor of the town, but she only 
smiled. 

Of course Kut soon got news of all these startling events and 
he was sure puzzled to know who she was and how to get out of his 
dilemma. 

“I sure would not want her on my track,” smiled Kut to him¬ 
self. “ She’s worse than a whole flock of bob-cats and a few cyclones 
heaved in for good measure.” 

The officials insisted on making Kel a deputy sheriff and sending 
her out after the lone highwayman, and to this she agreed, but de¬ 
clined to be made a deputy. 

“I’ll round-up the polite cuss all right,” she told them, and 
they applauded her to the skies. 

It was the general belief, however, that the lone highwayman 
would now be afraid to resume his depredations. To this belief 
Keldora added a dissenting voice. 

“The cuss is undoubtedly vain,” she said, “and it would greatly 
gratify his vanity to pull off a bold coup right here under your snoot 
and then lay back and laff at you all.” 

And she was right, as usual. In less than ten days the stage that 
was bringing in ninety thousand dollars to meet the big pay-roll at 
the mines was held up and robbed in broad daylight and only 
about four miles out from Helena. The bandit was politer and more 
sarcastic than ever, and cleaned out the eleven passengers as well 
as capturing the pay-roll bag. When he was thru he forced three 
of the frightened men to securely strap his loot to his high-powered 
nag, and then he made them all get back in the stage and gave. 
them a mock and sweeping bow, and exclaimed in correct Spanish: 


RED KLOVER. 


162 

u Adios y senors y senoras.” Then he turned and rode carelessly; 
and leisurely away, as tho he were just out for a riding exercise and 
an air-bath. 

Just as the'stage started he called out in a taunting voice: 
“Tell the little Wildcat from Missouri to come and see me;” and 
he laffed at the humor of his taunt as he disappeared from view. 

Within two hours the bold cuss was in Helena, drinking in the 
news of the bold hold-up and the taunting challenge that was sent 
to their honored guest. This roused the ire and slumbering man¬ 
hood of the place as nothing else could have done, and the Governor 
and Mayor and Sheriff and other officials were in for organizing 
posses and combing the whole State and keeping it up till the rob¬ 
ber was captured and his evil career ended. 

“Gentlemen,” said Keldora, “you would only be wasting your 
time, and would never succeed. As Senor Impudence has deemed 
me a foe worthy of his steel by sending me a polite challenge, I 
have accepted his invitation, and am going to pay the cuss a visit; 
so you will greatly oblige me if you will keep out of this little affair 
and let me settle it in my own way. I’ll land him all right—just as 
I did the other two. In the meantime, if you all want to do some¬ 
thing, you might send out a tracer after the one you let escape.” 

This last shot got their goats in a hurry, and they agreed to let 
the Little Suff. pull off the stunt in her own way. 

It was now about 5 o’clock in the evening, and the next after¬ 
noon Kel was ready for the front-line trenches. 

About a two-foot snow lay upon the ground, and that night 
another bad blizzard set in and just simply howled all night and 
was still at it the next day. About 2 o’clock that afternoon Kel 
had secured a fairly good mount, and, with her six-shooters, a Bowie- 
knife and a Winchester, she was ready for the fray. As the weather 
was so bad, her friends tried to persuade her to delay it until the 
storm had subsided. 

“Nothing doing, gentlemen,” said Keldora. “A little snow 
and storm only give zest to the chase. I feel certain the bandit is 
an ex-actor and an adept at disguising himself, and has a safe hiding- 
place near the city, where he conceals his loot and horse and can 
rest when necessary. I am also sure he is a mongrel Mexican, with 
Indian and Caucasian blood in his evil veins, not more than thirty 
years of age, a typical Bohemian, with considerable musical talent, 
and more or less romantic. My idea is, that if I ride out alone late 
in the day when no one is near, be will attempt to capture me and 


1 63 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

carry me to his cave and make love to me in real stage style. He 
is a cheap sentimentalist, and would greatly enjoy such a romance; 
but I’ll put a splinter in his romantic dreams and teach the poor 
simp a lesson. He has a considerable streak of yellow in his make¬ 
up, and his courage is only bravado. I’m calling the gentleman’s 
hand, for my cards are all aces, except the Joker and a few visitors 
from the Royal Family .” 

This rare little speech brought forth the wildest applause and 
admiration. 

Kel rode rapidly away toward the east and was soon swallowed 
up in the Montana blizzard. She had reached a point about six 
miles out when she saw a muffled figure coming up from the gulch 
to the left, and he evidently recognized her at once, for he sang out: 
“Hello, little Wildcat! I’m delighted to meet you.” 

She recognized him at once, and called out: “Throw up your 
hands, senor!” 

“Like hell I will!” he returned, and at the same time let go a 
shot aimed at her right hand, but he was a little too slow about it. 

“Crack!” went Kel’s six-shooter, and a bullet went thru his 
left lung within an inch of his heart. He turned his horse and pro¬ 
ceeded to escape, but he soon tumbled off in the snow, and his horse 
ran on alone. 

His shot was a pretty good one, for it went thru Kel’s horse’s 
ear and thru her clothes between the arm and side of the body. It 
just grazed the skin of her right arm. His object was to cripple 
her so she couldn’t shoot any more, and then capture her and 
carry her to his rendezvous, and have a bushel of fun taunting her 
while negotiating for her ransom. 

The shot thru the horse’s ear so frightened the poor animal that 
it became unmanageable and just ran and plunged wildly ahead, and 
her hands were so stiff with the cold she could not stop him nor 
turn him about and go. back to the city. After running at top 
speed for about seven miles, he stumbled and fell in a gulch and 
threw Kel over his head, and she fell in such a way that it dislocated 
her left shoulder and twisted her neck so it rendered her uncon¬ 
scious. And thus she lay in the fast-falling and drifting snow for 
about an hour, when a miner with his pack-burro stumbled over 
her and dug her out of her white grave, and holding her on his 
burro, he soon reached his warm and comfortable cave, where his 
stowaway was carefully deposited on plenty of warm blankets and 
skins and given first aid. This “miner” was no other than our 


164 


RED KLOVER. 


old friend Kut. He had been to town, and had the' late news about 
the girl starting out in such a storm and on such a hardy—or rather, 
foolhardy errand. He had made his purchases the day before, and 
early that morning had started for home before the storm got any 
worse. As he had seen Keldora on two previous occasions, he knew 
at a glance who his unconscious guest was. 

Now here was another kink in Kut’s tangled skein—would he ever 
be able to untangle his crossed wires and get out in the clear again? 
It seemed not. And yet “hope springs eternal,”facetiously quoted 
Kut as he continued to administer to his guest’s needs and make 
her comfortable. “ Suppose she dies here in my den ? Great snakes 
alive! but I would be in it for fair then,” mused the young man 
to himself. “A killed man to my credit and a dead girl in my home 
and all this mazuma on my hands. Good-night, Kut, old boy!” 
and he shuddered at the grim possibilities. “With such a chain 
of evidence against me, who would ever believe anything I might 
say?” and he saw his finish at the end of a rope. 

He bent over the soft and unconscious form of the girl, and a 
great wave of pity swept over his storm-tossed and rugged soul, 
and he could not keep back the tears. Memory brought back his 
little Canary, and he could not fail to note how very much alike 
the two were in looks, size, etc. His great storm-stressed soul went 
out to this poor girl, and he swore to stand by her and see her thru 
—even if it did place his neck in the noose. 

She slept on and scarcely ever moved. He had her slightly 
frozen hand and arm that were protruding above the snow when 
he found her thawed out and in nearly a normal condition, but 
still she refused to come back to life. She just seemed to sleep— 
and sleep. 

On first examining her, he found her left shoulder dislocated 
and the vertebrae of the neck badly twisted, but he promptly re¬ 
duced these lesions and had straightened everything out and placed 
it in its normal place—but still she would not come back. 

She had one six-shooter in her left belt and her Bowie-knife 
still with her, but her other gun and rifle had been lost in the wild 
ride. 

Kut realized that her horse had thrown her in some way; and 
he searched her over for a possible bullet-wound, and found the 
scratch on her right arm and the hole thru her clothes. He knew 
from this evidence that she had met up with the outlaw, and he 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 165 

was willing to bet heavily that the cuss was in a worse condition 
than she was. 

The storm was still increasing in fury and getting very cold— 
about fifteen degrees below zero and by morning it might be forty 
degrees below. 

“Well, I have plenty of grub and things for several weeks,” 
he mused to himself, “and if she decides to wake up and will con¬ 
descend to stay and accept my hospitality, I think I can entertain 
her for awhile---till this cussed storm abates a little. Neither man 
nor beast could weather it long outside now. Whatever possessed 
such a delicate little flower to brave such a storm?—and only in 
pursuit of a worthless outlaw. I hope she got him all right. But 
how did she ever happen to be dumped in the snow? The cold is 
evidently not keeping her in a comatose condition. It’s got my 
goat and I give it up.” 

The awful storm raged for two days more, and neither man 
nor beast dared to venture out. “What has become of the Little 
Suff.?” was on every tongue; and a feeling of gloom and sorrow 
seemed to settle down over the place like a shroud. Everyone be¬ 
lieved that she had lost her way and perished in the blizzard. 

Zenda and Walden were inconsolable. “Should they send a 
wire to her parents?” “Not yet,” whispered something in Zenda’s 
soul. “We must wait and find her body first. Oh! why did we 
let her go?” wailed the poor distracted girl. 

“There seemed no way of stopping her, dear,” quietly returned 
Walden. 

“ Right you are, dear husband, for when Kel makes up her mind 
to do a thing there is no way to stop her,” sighed his wife in deepest 
sorrow. 

After the storm abated, searching parties were organized and 
sent out to find her body. All they found was the dead body of 
the outlaw frozen so stiff it would make a run on the fires of hell to 
thaw him out. He was found to be disguised as a prospector, and 
had a little more than four hundred .dollars in his belt, two .45s, 
an ugly stiletto of Spanish make, and a Winchester. He appeared 
to be about thirty years of age and a mongrel, about like Kel had 
guessed. His horse had reached town that night and as it was 
alone, the people guessed that Kel had either winged him or had 
been captured by him. 

Keldora’s horse was found a little later with a broken fore leg 
and frozen stiff in a deep gully near the trail. The bullet-hole thru 


RED KLOVER. 


166 

its ear told the people plainly that the bandit had got in one wide 
shot before he was killed, and that ear-wound was probably what 
frightened the animal and caused it to run away. “But what has 
become of the girl?” That was the question on every lip. She 
had killed the bandit and his horse had returned unhurt, and her 
nag had been found dead with a bullet-hole thru its ear. “Did 
that same shot also kill the girl? If so, where was she?” If she was 
still alive after the horse had fallen and broken its leg, she couldn’t 
have gone far in such a storm, they reasoned. It was puzzling and 
exasperating to the last degree. Perhaps Time, the great revealer 
of secrets, would loosen up and tell—yes, perhaps! 

It was about 5 o’clock in the evening when Kut arrived at his 
den with his unconscious guest, and at a few minutes past 11 o’clock 
that night, while he was rubbing her hands and arms trying to keep 
the blood circulating and thus relieving the heart and vital organs 
from any tendency to congestion, her great liquid and dreamy orbs 
suddenly snapped open and gazed in wonder into his own startled 
eyes. 

“Speak! Speak, please, and say you’re better!” exclaimed the 
astonished man. 

She just continued to stare at him, and then her face cleared 
up a little and she softly smiled at him. Then her lids drooped 
again, and those glorious soul-windows were again curtained in 
darkness. Then she began to breathe softly, and after a few min¬ 
utes turned over and sighed. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you live!” exclaimed Kut. “Can I do any¬ 
thing for you, Miss Storm?” 

She just lay silent for a few minutes and then turned over again 
and faced him as her great bottomless eyes opened again and she 
turned them full on Kut’s face and continued to stare at him. He 
began to show signs of uneasiness, for he began to think that her 
brain had been injured in the fall and her mind wasn’t quite right. 

“Please speak, miss, and let me know that you are all right,” 
pleaded the frightened man. 

“Mr. Bandit, what difference would it make to you anyway 
whether I’m right or wrong in the head—whether I live ordie? £ ’ 
and her great somber eyes had a gleam in them that sizzled like a 
tiger’s eyes at bay. 

“Oh, Miss Storm! you’re mistaken. I’m not a bandit. It 
was I who found you back there in the snow almost frozen stiff 
and entirely unconscious, and I brought you here to my crude home, 


167 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

and have worked with you ever since to revive you,’’ said Kut. 

“When did you bring me here, and what is the time now?” 
asked Keldora. 

“It was about 5 o’clock in the evening, and now it is 12:20 
midnight,” replied the young man, courteously. “Were you out 
after the lone highwayman?” 

“Yes, and I think I got him,” replied Keldora. “But who are 
you, and where am I?” 

“My name is Kutly Badd, and you are in my cave-home, about 
twenty miles southeast of Helena,” smiled Kut, with a ring of hon¬ 
esty in his voice. 

“If I have wronged you in thinking that you are the bandit 
whom I pursued and with whom I exchanged shots last evening 
when we met, I humbly beg your pardon, Mr. Badd,” replied Kel¬ 
dora contritely. 

“You were certainly wrong, Miss Storm, and it is a pleasure to 
forgive you,” said Kut. “Are you resting easily now?” 

“Oh, yes! and I think I’ll soon be all right again,” replied 
Keldora. 

“I’m awfully glad to hear that,” continued Kut. “Can I get 
•you anything or do aught to please you?” 

“If you will be so kind, I should like a drink of water, and then 
please tell me something about yourself;” and again those great 
Andean eyes, with the moonlight of the Orinoco River playing tag 
in their cosmic depths, were turned quietly on him and surveyed 
him from head to foot. 

“You are dressed like a miner, but I don’t believe you are 
one—in reality,” went on Kel in her critical way; “and you must 
be a musician, from the look of those instruments,” and her eyes 
took in his banjo and guitar—also his many books, not cheap novels, 
either; “and I observe that you use correct speech and are a stu¬ 
dent,” went on the girl. 

“Well, yes, miss, I play a little to amuse myself and also try 
to beguile the lonely hours with books, and I have just a smatter¬ 
ing of education,” explained Kut modestly. 

“But why are you masquerading as a miner and living in an 
isolated cave by yourself?” persisted the Little Suff. 

“That’s quite a weird story, miss, and I’m afraid you might 
not be interested in it after hearing it; besides, it brings back mem¬ 
ories that are painful and which I want to forget;” and he hung 
his head and sobbed audibly. 


168 


RED KLOVER. 


“I’m sorry to have probed an old wound in your past, Mr- 
Badd, and if you prefer not to tell me your story, I’ll just bury my 
woman’s curiosity and let it go at that; but can you assure me on 
your word of honor that you are not an outlaw and criminal?” per¬ 
sisted Kel relentlessly, and her eyes pinned him to the mat. 

“Yes, I can so assure you, miss; and while I recently killed 
a coyote in the human form, I do not consider myself a criminal;” 
and his eyes had a cold and steely look that never quavered. 

“Then I’ll give you my hand, and we’ll be tillicums* at least, 
for I realize that you saved my life; and no matter what your rea¬ 
sons were for taking a human life, you have my sympathy and 
good-will,” said Keldora. 

“Oh, I thank you for those sweet words, Miss Storm, and just 
know you will exonerate me when you know my story; and I don’t 
blame you for the two coyotes you snuffed out,” went on Kut. “I 
did not shoot my enemy from ambush, but grasped the cur by the 
throat andcut his black heart in twain; and he was heavily armed 
at the time and had an equal chance to kill me;” and Kut’s steel- 
dark eye s agaim emitted sparks of hatred. 

“As soon as the storm subsides so it is safe to go out, I’ll give 
you safe conduct back to your friends, but it may be several days' 
yet. It is fully 20 degrees below zero now and will be about 40 
below by morning, and the snow is falling and drifting fast, so you 
can see how much of a chance you’d have getting thru it. I have 
four rooms here and plenty of blankets and grub and books, if you 
care to read, and if you prefer to be alone, I’ll keep out of sight,” 
carefully explained Kut. “If you want anything to eat, I shall 
only be too glad to cook for you and to administer to your wants 
in every possible way;” and he looked at her wonderful face all 
wreathed in smiles, as she kept those magnetic eyes fastened on his 
ruff but manly face, that showed strength and kindness in every 
rugged line. 

“Oh! I should much rather just lie here and talk to you—for 
awhile yet; and I’m not a bit hungry—for food, thank you,” said 
Keldora. 

“Very well; and as I am not sleepy, we can talk till you want 
to sleep,” Kut replied. 

“Mr. Badd, won’t you favor your guest with some music?” 
and those Ozark eyes were made to be obeyed. 

* Tillicums —An Indian word meaning “friends.” 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 169 

“Certainly, Miss Storm, if you can stand it;” and he took 
down his guitar with all the tenderness of a young mother handling 
her first-born. He quickly tuned it up, and then he softly played 
some of the old plantation melodies with a great deal of feeling and 
expression, 

“Splendid! You’re a real musician, Mr. Badd. I just know 
you can sing;” and again her eyes had their way, and Kut sang in 
a clear and musical voice several old songs, and then he branched 
off and played and sang one of his own compositions. This brot 
out more praise and a look of happiness on her radiant face. 

“What is the name of that last song?” asked Keldora. 

“Oh! that is one I composed myself, and I call it ‘Trying 
to Forget,’” replied Kut. 

“It’s beautiful—I love it—won’t you play it again for me?” 
begged Keldora. 

“To be sure—all night, if you wish me to;” and Kut’s eyes 
had a merry twinkle in them. 

Then he played and sang it again with a depth of feeling one 
seldom hears, for he was trying to play the soreness out of his heart 
—endeavoring to erase the wounds from his soul. Kel was simply 
delighted, and gazed at him in wonder and bewilderment. 

“Where did you learn to play and sing, Mr. Badd?” Keldora 
asked. 

“Never learned it—just born in me, I guess,” replied Kut. 

“Weren’t you born and raised in the South?” queried Keldora. 

“Yes, miss; over in the wildest part of eastern Kentucky,” 
answered Kut. 

“Ah! I thot so. Then you are no stranger to bob-cats and 
moonshiners,” and she laffed with him over the question. 

“I was born in the Ozarks of southern Missouri, and I also 
know something about the critters,” said Keldora; then they both 
laffed again and clasped hands as a further token of their friendship 
and kinship. 

“I’m just awfully sorry I mistook you for that bandit, Mr. 
Badd,” continued Keldora; and they laffed another duet. 

“It was perfectly natural, I admit; and now won’t you tell 
me about the little episode?” coaxed Kut in his happiest mood. 

Keldora soon acquainted him with the affair and the history 
leading up to it. 

“Wonderful girl! To start out alone and in such a storm after 
a desperado! You’re certainly living up to your name, Miss Storm; 


170 


RED KLOVER. 


and I thank my stars that you are not after me” smiled the young 
man dryly. 

“ Don’t be too sure about that, Mr. Badd, for I also have a 
commission to find the man who killed the cashier and bring him 
in—so the people may decorate him with a medaland she smiled 
archly at him and kept her great searching eyes riveted on his 
face. He did not start, but the color came to his face so plainly 
she felt sure of her shot. 

“I plead guilty to killing that snake, Miss Storm, and I also 
saved the bank’s money he had in charge—about four hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars, and I have it all safely here in my retreat 
and have been trying to think of some way of returning it without 
getting myself in bad,” explained Kut. 

“Great!” exclaimed Keldora. “Now you must tell me the 
whole story—why you killed the cashier, and why you are hiding 
here in this cave and masquerading as a miner, etc.” 

“That will probably be best, Miss Storm; but as it is quite 
late and the curfew has chimed long ago, I think it will be best to 
postpone it till to-morrow—with your permission;” and he blushed 
like an awkward school-boy confessing his sins to a good-looking 
young schoolmam. 

“Perhaps it will. But let’s have a little more music before we 
retire, and if you Mil bring me the banjo, I’ll try to help you;” and 
poor Kel could not storm a faint blush away from her pretty face. 

Kut brot the instruments, and soon they were playing like 
professionals on a vaudeville circuit; and oh, how they could play! 
and how perfectly their wonderful voices trailed together in divine 
harmony! It was hard to tell which was the more surprised—he 
or she. 

Kut put on more logs and built up a big fire, and told her if 
she wanted anything during the night, to call him. “And do not 
be afraid,” said Kut, “for no one can get in here nor even find my 
retreat. Good-night and pleasant dreams, Miss Storm.” 

“The same to you, mine good host, and may all our troubles 
end with the raging storm,” responded Keldora. 

Chapter XXVII. 

KUT’S CONFESSION AND THE NEW COOK. 

They both had flower-scented dreams that night—only Kut 
did most of his dreaming with wide-open eyes and trying to un 
ravel the mystery and planning how to “get out in the clear again,” 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 171 

as the railroad boys used to say when they were in trouble and 
the dispatcher wouldn’t clear them. 

Kel had a sound and refreshing sleep, and was too happy to 
do much dreaming—except in soft and dim colors, like echoes from 
the Vast and Far Away. She awoke with a new and strange sense 
of happiness rioting in her soul—and not a particle of fear in her 
heart. Most girls would have been scared half to death if placed 
in her position. Kel wasn’t made of fear materials. 

As she hadn’t undressed herself, it didn’t take her long to dress. 
She had just snuggled down under the thick warm blankets and 
slept like a tired child. 

Kut was already astir, and as soon as Keldora’s great dream¬ 
like eyes snapped open, she smelled the delicious odor of frying 
bacon and eggs and coffee; and those odors were real perfume, too, 
for now, after her terrible strain of the day before, and no supper 
the night before, she had an appetite—or at least a mighty good 
imitation of one. The whole place was as warm and comfortable as 
any steam-heated house, and she timidly slipped out where Kut was 
doing the cooking, and called out in pleasant tones: 

“Good morning, Mr. Badd. Did you have pleasant dreams?” 
and she rewarded him with a shot from her eye-arsenal that caused 
him to surrender at once. 

“Buenos dias , senorita. My dreams were rainbows going to 
their first circus, and couldn’t be brighter. I hope you slept well 
and didn’t dream of bandits and burglars?” And they both laffed 
a duet that was soul-refreshing. The way he emphasized the word 
“bandits” made her hang her pretty head and blush. 

“Do you need a second cook? I can boil water without burn¬ 
ing it and can fry ice cream in a fireless cooker,” bantered Kel in 
her happiest mood. 

“If you have a good character from the last place where you 
cooked, I’ll give you a trial,” mocked Kut in return badinage. 
“You might set the table—that barrel over there standing on its 
head; and then if you will watch this coffee and see that it doesn’t 
boil over, I ’ll get out my real silver and plate and open some peaches 
and crack some nuts, for I also have a near appetite this beautiful, 
spring-like morning. I was up to take a look-out a while ago, and 
my lazy old thermometer only registered 38 degrees below, and I 
don’t think the snow is a bit more than twenty feet deep; but as 
it shows no tendency to let up, we may have some real winter weather 
by to-morrow.” 


172 


RED KLOVER. 


Kel was astounded at his wit and humor and keen irony—why, 
he was almost equal to her beloved Zen. “Why, he’s a real charm¬ 
ing man and a conversationalist and bon vivant of the highest or¬ 
der,” blushed Kel to herself; “and just to think that I first thot 
him a horrid old bandit!” and she made a sly face at herself. Then 
she spoke to him in Spanish and was delighted to find that he was 
at home in that tongue. 

Kut had made two ruff chairs out of saplings, and soon 
they were enjoying a real breakfast of bacon and eggs, crackers, 
cheese, olives, peaches and cream, butter, and real sure-enuff cof¬ 
fee. Kut had plenty of means and believed in good living, so his 
place was bountifully stocked with all the good things on the mar¬ 
ket. He also had plenty of honey, jellies, candy, sardines and 
canned fish, etc. They both enjoyed their first breakfast to the 
full and spent more than an hour at it, and then they cleaned up 
the dishes and had a couple of hours of music. 

They melted snow and had the purest and softest water to 
drink—and didn’t care much if the storm never ended. Kut had 
plenty of lemons and oranges, and they made lemonade with orange 
juice in it—“and this nectar will be our moonshine,” solemnly an¬ 
nounced the boy as he made the drink and brot Kel a big glass 
of the sparkling thirst-quencher. Then Kel seated herself on the 
table and assumed a stern and solemn air as she announced: 

“The court is now in session, and the first case on the docket 
is Mr. Kutly Deep Badd, charged with taking human life (and he 
not an M. D.) and having four hundred and fifty thousand dollars 
of the bank’s money in his possession. Mr. Badd, are you guilty 
or not guilty?” 

“May it please the court, I am not guilty. I only killed a 
coyote and snake that was masquerading in human form;” and 
Kut tried to keep back his humor, that just would bubble to the 
surface. 

“The prisoner must tell the whole story, and then the court 
can decide;” and she gave him a look that sent his blood rioting 
thru his whole system. “It is my duty to warn the prisoner that 
anything he says may be used against him, and that I may give him 
a life sentence;” and Kut’s blood rioted and mutinied some more. 

“All right, your honor,” said Kut; “I think I should like a 
lifer.” 

And then Keldora’s blood insisted on joining the I. W. W. and 
Bolsheviki. 


173 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET . 

“May it please the court/’ continued Kut, “I shall have to 
go back to the dear old hills of my native heath and begin at the 
beginning.” 

Then he vividly and with dramatic fervor and eloquence re¬ 
lated his whole sad story, with the single exception of his train job 
in Minnesota and his bank episode in South Dakota. He didn’t deem 
it necessary to make her unhappy with these two mistakes, which 
he now regretted deeply. At the time, and while under the control 
of the demon Vengeance, he felt justified in doing these two jobs. 
He had to have the means to follow Brinkley, and there seemed no 
other way, and if he hadn’t had the means to follow the scoundrel, 
the four hundred and fifty thousand dollars he recovered from the 
rascal would have been lost to the Montana bank—so, all in all, 
he wasn’t such a bad one as some would claim. Put yourself in his 
place, you saints who would condemn him, and try to look at it 
from his viewpoint. 

Before Kut had finfshed Kel’s eyes were looking like an Ar- 
kansaw roof and her whole heart went out to him in all the wild 
and deep glory of its virgin and deathless love. 

“My poor boy!” said Kel, “you are not guilty. You’re a 
Man —a real man, and I’m proud to claim you as a tillicum.” 

Then she dropped her eyes as he clasped her hands and said: 

“I want the life sentence—just with you , dear heart, for I 
love you, and would rather die than to try and live without you 
for my soul-mate.” 

“Very well, Kut dear,” said Kel, “it shall be a lifer, and I 
shall guard you closely and not give you a chance to escape.” 

Then the strong man gathered the frail little girl in his great 
arms of iron and steel and almost squeezed her to death. 

“My own precious little Kel—my sweetheart wife-to-be,” con¬ 
tinued Kut, “you’ve made me the happiest man in all the great 
world of man’s ugliness and Nature’s beauty. Let it storm—who 
cares?” And their lips met and clung in that Vast Forever soul- 
kiss that keeps the rainbow forever in our skies. It is the kiss 
that puts the color and fragrance in all the flowers and plants 
dream-seeds in every life. 

“Isn’t it perfectly wonderful, dear heart, that when I started 
out after a bandit I should find my husband?” asked Kel. 

“It certainly is, little sweetheart mine,” replied Kut; “and now 
that our paths run in the same direction, whither shall we go?” 


174 


RED KLOVER. 


“Straight back to the dear old Ozarks,” said Kel, “where we 
can love and live and dream in peace.” 

The next three days that they spent in the cave on account of 
the awful storm were the sweetest days in all their lives and will 
ever have a perfumed place in Memory’s old flower-tangled orchard. 

They would return to Helena as soon as possible, restore the 
money to the bank, and tell their story to the officers, and if they 
wanted to hold Kut and try him for killing Brinkley, well and good. 

“But, sweetheart,” said Keldora, “I’ll be at your side and no 
prison bars can ever separate us;” and she clung to him like a 
mother to her babe that is about to be taken away from her and 
put in a “Aom^.” 

“ Brave and loyal little woman! ” exclaimed Kut. “ I can brave 
anything or face any fate with such a pal!” And again those kisses 
that keep the stars eternally in the skies. 

Together they cooked and played and 4 sang and dreamed while 
the storm raged on—and days were only measly little fleeting 
seconds now. 

The time finally came for their departure; and, with the money 
and Keldora on the burro, Kut led the way back to Helena, and went 
first to Walden’s home and acquainted them with their wonderful 
experiences. 

Chapter XXVIII. 

KUT’S ACQUITTAL AND MARRIAGE. 

It was late in the evening when Zen heard a knock at their 
door, and when Walden opened the door he fairly staggered as he 
exclaimed: “Great heavens! Come right in. Where have you 
been all this time?” and he forgot all about everything except his 
joy at seeing Kel alive and well. 

Zenda was only a few paces behind Walden, and it took both 
men a long, long while to pry the two girls apart and wipe away 
their tears of joy at being reunited. 

Then Kel tried hard to keep back her blushes as she presented 
Kut to them as one of the greatest heroes of all time—“and my 
affianced husband,” meekly admitted the Little Suff., with a shy 
and happy look at the big stalwart six feet and four inches of a 
man who tried vainly to outblush Kel—and almost succeeded. 

“Well, of all the surprises this is the limit!” exclaimed Zen; 
and she held her little pal off at arms’ length and continued to stare 
at her in astonishment. “And to think that you never even con- 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 175 

sultedm<? about such an important matter!” mocked Zenda in her 
fine ironical way. 

“Well, dear, you see we were so situated at the time it was 
impossible to consult anyone but ourselves,” explained Kel; “be¬ 
sides, we’re just perfectly adapted in every way, and he has sol¬ 
emnly promised to always obey me;” and she turned those glorious 
all-summer and vast-forever eyes up at Kut, and he promptly threw 
both hands up in the air in token of unconditional surrender. 

Then the four of them sat down and just laifed an old-fash¬ 
ioned quartet till they couldn’t laff another smile. 

Zenda and Kel soon had a real meal smoking hot on the pretty 
table, and the way the prodigals fell to and ate was a sufficient 
testimonial to their appetites. 

Then Kut dramatically recited his life-story, and how he fol¬ 
lowed and killed Brinkley, and dug the Little Sufi, out of the snow 
and thawed her out and back to life in his cave. 

“Wonderful! Splendid!” echoed Walden and Zen in the same 
breath. 

“Mr. Badd, I am proud to give you my hand and call you 
friend and brother ,” said Walden, with a dry wink at Kel. 

“And I’m just simply delighted to have another big brother— 
and oh! such a big one, too,” smiled Zen as she gave him her dainty 
little hand and a squeeze that went clear thru his heart and clinched 
itself on the other side of his soul. 

“Welcome to our home, brother Kut, for henceforth you are 
one of the family;” and Walden gave the big fellow another hand- 
grasp and a friendly slap on the back that caused the giant to blush 
like a frightened school-boy. 

“You even dare to think of going to a hotel and we’ll shoot 
you for a slacker,” mocked Zen. “Won’t we, dear Kel?” 

“We’d do a little worse than that,” said Kel; “we’d paint 
him yellow and bury him in the sage-brush, where the coyotes 
prowl and notch the horizon.” 

And Kel slipped her pretty little soft hand in Kut’s big brawny 
one and took a shot at his soul with her glorious soul-lit eyes; and 
he meekly promised to obey them both , “for I can see right now 
that I have two bosses;” and the big and happy rascal made a 
mock and ironical bow that almost rivaled Zen’s irony. 

“Zen, dear,” said Kel, “do you know that he is about as iron¬ 
ical as you are? and that is paying him a very high compliment.” 

“I can see that much already,” dryly admitted Kut. 


176 


RED KLOVER. 


“And he is also a real musician, Zen, and our voices just slip 
along together as tho they were made especially for each other;” 
and Kel gave her big boy a look of pride and a smile he could dream 
in forever. 

“How fortunate!” exclaimed Walden. “We can now have a 
real quartet.” 

Then they all got their instruments and talked about music— 
say, they just had a riot of music, and it was past midnight when 
they retired for the night. 

The next morning they had a splendid breakfast of all the 
good things the market afforded, and then Walden sent word to 
the mine that he would not be there that day, and asked the fore¬ 
man, Tom Kelley, to run things or just let things run themselves. 
Then they got ready, and about 10 o’clock started for the bank. 

They asked to have a private interview with the president and 
a few of the directors of the bank. Their request was promptly 
granted, and they were soon closeted with the president, -the new 
cashier and three of the directors, in the directors’ room. They 
were all so delighted at seeing the Little Suff. alive and among them 
again that it was hard to divert it from being a social affair and get 
down to business. 

Kel arose, and at a signal Kut and-Walden brought forward 
the two big suit-cases and soon had the four hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars on the table—to the astonishment of the officials. 

“Gentlemen,” said Keldora, “I have the honor and the pleas¬ 
ure to restore the money your institution lost thru the rascality of 
your late cashier.” 

Then she quickly related the circumstances of her hunt for the 
bandit, their exchange of shots, and Kut finding her frozen in the 
snow and rapidly slipping away into that Voiceless Night which 
has no morning at the other end of it. 

Then Kut rose to his full height and, with a determined look 
on his rugged features, related his own sad story and how he had 
been an avenging Nemesis on Brinkley’s trail. 

“I had been planning for days how to return the money,” said 
Kut, “but could not see just how I could do it without getting 
myself into trouble. Then I stumbled on Miss Storm, and after 
she guessed that I had killed Brinkley, we soon agreed on our course 
of action; so here I am—the restorer of your money, and ready to 
stand trial for ridding the world of Brinkley.” 


177 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 

“You did a splendid job, Mr. Badd, and I congratulate you,” 
said the president of the bank. 

Then they all shook hands with Kut and only had kind words 
for him and his heroic deed. 

“The reward for returning the money to us is thirty thousand 
dollars,” announced the president, “but I J m a little puzzled as 
to whom to pay the reward;” and he looked from Kut to Kel 
and back again. 

“Oh! it will all be in the family,” remarked Zen in her ironical 
and humorous way. 

Then they all smiled good-naturedly, and the cashier suggested 
that each one be given half of it. 

“No, it all really belongs to Miss Storm. Ridding the world 
of that dangerous coyote is all the reward I desire,” declared Kut 
positively. 

That settled it, and the thirty thousand dollars was turned 
over to Kel. 

“Now we are going over and call on the prosecuting attorney 
and county judge and the other officials and make a clear breast of 
the whole affair,” quietly announced Kut as he arose. 

“And we should like to have you gentlemen present as wit¬ 
nesses,” announced Kel. 

“Certainly, Miss Storm,” said the president of the bank; “we 
shall only be too glad to attend and render you folks any assistance 
in our power.” 

The story soon leaked out, and soon the court-room was packed 
to the roof with citizens of Helena—all anxious to get a peep at the 
wonderful actors in this remarkable drama. 

The president first arose and stated that Miss Storm and Mr. 
Badd had returned the entire four hundred and fifty thousand dol¬ 
lars to the bank, and that the bank had paid the reward money to 
Miss Storm, as Mr. Badd modestly refused to touch a penny of it. 

Then Kut rose to his full height and, with his big head and 
broad shoulders thrown back in the air, dramatically recited the 
story of his wrongs and how he had given up all else to follow and 
avenge his wife’s tragic death and his own wrongs. 

“Now, gentlemen, I’m in your hands,” said Kut, “and am 
ready to be arrested and tried for killing that beast.” Then he 
sat down, amidst such an uproar of applause as the place had never 
heard before. 

There was not a dry eye in the place. Even the prosecuting 


178 


RED KLOVER. 


attorney discovered that he had tears to shed and he didn’t care a 
damn who saw him shed them, either. Then he quietly arose and 
held up his hands as a token for silence. 

“Arrest and try you?” he said looking Kut over and over with 
pride and admiration in his hardened old eyes. “Hell, man! the 
laws of Montana do not consider it a crime to kill coyotes and rat¬ 
tlesnakes. You’re free; and I want to shake your hand and per¬ 
sonally thank you,” and his hand clasped Kut’s in a true Western 
g ri P- 

Then the Judge signaled for silence, and the Governor rose and 
personally thanked Kut and Kel for the splendid and heroic work 
they had done for humanity and the State of Montana. Then he 
and his staff and the Mayor and all the county and city officials 
vied with one another in shaking hands with Kut and Kel, and 
everyone wanted to entertain them at the same time. 

Then Kel arose and held up her pretty hand, and you could 
have heard a pin drop, so profound was the silence. 

“I think I have made good in rounding up Senor Bandit and 
saving the bank from ruin,” said Kel. “The only part of it that I 
regret is having to kill the greaser. I had counted on capturing 
the polite cuss alive, but I saw at once he intended to cripple me 
so I couldn’t fight and then carry me off to his cave and taunt me 
while he negotiated for my ransom. As soon as I divined his in¬ 
tentions, I gave the conceited cuss a lesson in drawing and shoot¬ 
ing quickly. But you are now rid of all three of them, and I have 
also captured a life-partner;” and she could not keep back the 
blushes as the assembled crowd went wild with shouts and praises. 

“Judge,” continued Kel, “would you mind splicing Mr. Badd 
and me before we adjourn sine die?” 

“Delighted!” assented his honor. 

Then the prosecutor piloted them across the hall and helped 
them to procure a license, when they returned and were quickly 
united in marriage amidst the breathless silence of the spectators. 

Such a wild and happy scene was never before witnessed, and 
the congratulations were long and ardent. 

The Governor and the Mayor invited them to a reception in 
their honor, as both the State and the city wished to show their ap¬ 
preciation. They accepted the invitation, and two days later a 
social event was pulled off in Helena that was indeed unique and 
spectacular. 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 179 

Walden and Zen stood up with them when they were married 
and the Judge said in conclusion: 

“Bless you, my ehildren. May you always be as happy as I 
am in uniting you to-day/’ 

Chapter XXIX. 

KUT AND KEL GO HUNTING—ONIONS. 

The next day after the marriage, the Mayor and other officials 
called on Kut and Kel and announced that the total rewards for 
the capture (dead or alive) of the lone bandit amounted to just 
twenty-five thousand dollars, and they wished to pay the money 
to Kel, which they did, and congratulated her again on her won¬ 
derful bravery and abilities. They also informed her that the 
ninety thousand dollars the lone outlaw had stolen from the stage 
on his last hold-up had not yet been found, and the Mine Company 
had authorized them to offer a reward of twenty thousand dollars 
for the recovery of the lost ninety thousand dollars. 

“Would the Little Suff. undertake to find the dead bandit’s 
cache?” asked the Mayor. 

“Why, to be sure I will—just to keep in exercise and make my 
work out here complete,” replied Keldora. 

“Splendid!” exclaimed the Mayor and his brother officers 
“We feel sure now that the money will be found £nd restored to 
the rightful owners.” 

“And as I have nothing on hand now except to just be happy, 
I’ll go along and help my wife in the hunt;” and Kut blushed like 
a bashful girl at her first dance. 

“Of course you’ll go along—that’s what I got you for—to 
stay right at my side all thru life;” and she gave Kut a look that 
has ever conquered the strongest men all down thru the misty and 
cobwebby Past. 

“It is nice to have such a good boss,” and Kut smiled at the 
Mayor. 

“I congratulate you, Mr. Badd,” said the Mayor. “You are 
the luckiest man in the world.” 

“Very well, then,” said Kut; “after the reception, we will go 
out and find that dough or perish in the snow.” 

They all laffed heartily, and the committee then took their de¬ 
parture. 

The reception took place two days later, and was the most 
brilliant social affair ever held in Montana, and everyone vied with 


i8o 


RED KLOVER. * 


his nabor to do the city and State’s guests honor; and the wedding 
presents were many and costly. 

Kel had to make a speech and she did herself proud, too. That 
piece of dramatic eloquence carved her name all over the stars and 
far-flung planets. 

Every inducement was offered the pair to remain in Montana 
and grow up with the State. 

“Your husband can easily be our next governor, if you will 
only remain with us,” enthusiastically exclaimed the Governor to 
Kel as the pair led the grand march at the closing ball. 

“And we’re already laying the wires to elect Mr. Vancefield 
our next mayor,” went on the chief executive in an attempt to in¬ 
duce the Little Suff. and her distinguished husband to remain and 
be one with them. 

“Very flattering, Governor, I assure you all, but I have a better 
job for my husband;” and the little witch gave him a look that 
almost floored him. 

“Indeed! and may I inquire what it is?” asked the Governor 

“Certainly,” replied Keldora; “it is to go back to our dear 
old native hills of the friendly Ozarks and help me be happy—just 
to live—and love—and dream—far away from all the worry and 
strife and intrigue of public life. We have the most beautiful place 
in all the world—and I can even now hear the birds and the brooks, 
and trees and the dear old hills calling me—and we’re going; be¬ 
sides, I promised daddy and mamma that if I ever married I’d bring 
my husband home and live there, where we could comfort them in 
their evening of life, just as they comforted me in the morning of 
life; and, Governor, I have the most wonderful parents in all the 
world, and to desert them in their old days and go off and live with 
strangers—never!” and her wonderful eyes popped and blazed like 
old Vesuvius starting to work after a few years of inaction. 

“Wonderful little woman!” was all his excellency could find 
to utter. 

The next day after the big reception and ball in their honor, 
Kut and Kel mounted their horses and started out on the search 
for the bandit’s cache. The weather had cleared off and was fine 
—just cold enuff to be bracing, but not disagreeable. 

“Dear husband,” said Kel, “I think we had better go over to 
the place where I met the cuss and see if we can pick up a clew in 
that vicinity.” 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 


181 


“Right you are, little sweetheart mine,” replied Kut. “Lead 
on, as you know the way.” 

After about an hour’s ride, they came to the place where the 
bandit first appeared and called out that fatal and taunting chal¬ 
lenge to the “Little Wildcat,” as he facetiously called her. 

“Right over there, dear Kut, is where he emerged from that 
deep gulch,” said Kel, “and it is my guess his cave is not far away.” 

“We’ll soon test your diagnosis, dear Kel,” replied Kut, “so 
here goes for the gulch and the still hunt; and the twenty thousand 
dollars reward will pay us for our time and labor.” 

“To be sure it will,” continued Kel, “but the satisfaction of 
completing the job is my real incentive. I should hate to go home 
and leave the work unfinished—it would always be a black mark 
on my card, and I don’t intend that my record shall ever be so 
disgraced I” and her eyes flashed like primeval lightning. 

“No wonder I’m proud of my wonderful little wife with the 
big soul,” and Kut reached over and gave her a kiss and a hug that 
would have made a grizzly bear jealous. 

“And I’m just as proud of my big husband, too,” and she re¬ 
turned the caresses and added an illegal rate of interest. 

“And oh, won’t daddy and mamma be proud of their new big 
boy!” exclaimed Kel as she looked him over from keel to mizzen¬ 
mast, and with that soul-devouring look in her glorious eyes. 

“Perhaps they’ll not be so blind as you are, dear, and will be 
able to see me as I am,” modestly protested Kut. 

‘They’d better not be blind,” was Kel’s smiling rejoinder. 

Then the search began in earnest and continued up and down 
the gulch and its nabors till about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, when 
Kel all at once exclaimed: 

“Come over here, dear; I smell onions .” 

‘‘Onions!” bellowed Kut. “For heaven’s sake, how could 
onions be out here in this desolate and snow-clad wilderness?” and 
he looked incredulous. 

“Of course, they don’t grow out here; but certain outlaws, 
and especially those of Mexican lineage, are very fond of Yiddish 
weeds and he had probably cooked some of them for his last dinner 
that day, and their odor lives a long time; so, my dear husband, 
I feel sure we’re near the end of our search;” and she gave him a 
look of self-confidence that made him fairly jump with pride and 
delight. 

“Thou wonderful blood-hound!” and Kut gathered her to his 


182 


RED KLOVER. 


heart and kissed and caressed her again and again. Then they 
both sniffed the air and slowly proceeded to follow the scent of the 
Spanish Rose. 

In about ten minutes the odor seemed to be coming out right 
thru a big boulder, but, of course, that was impossible. Kut, with 
his Herculean strength, soon found that the boulder was a snugly- 
fitting door to a cave, and in a few minutes they both entered the 
cave and closed the stone door after them. 

“Do you reckon we’ll find anyone here?” tentatively asked 
Kut of his wife. 

“I think not, dear. I’m quite sure the cuss operated alone.” 
And she was right, as usual. 

They found two big rooms and several smaller ones, and a 
complete cooking outfit and plenty of blankets and provisions and 
about a bushel of onions; and the frying-pan, which had not been 
washed since dinner, bore evidence that onions had recently been 
cooked in it. And again Kel’s diagnosis was verified, and Kut’s 
pride in her went up several more notches. 

After about an hour’s search, they found the bandit’s treasure 
carefully cached in three different places and some of it carefully 
buried. He was too foxy to put all his eggs in one basket. They 
not only found the Mine Company’s money intact, but also found 
two hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars besides, and about 
eighteen thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds and jewelry. This 
was indeed a find. 

Kut consulted his watch and found it was 7 o’clock p. m. 

“Sweetheart, suppose we remain here all night, as there is 
plenty of grub and things to cook with?” said Kut. 

“Very well, dear; it will be a reminder of old times;” and she 
gave him a sweet smile that melted all the snow in the world. “And 
I am in favor of having onions for supper;” and they both smiled 
dryly. 

Kel proceeded to get supper, while Kut went out and brot 
their horses in and stabled them in a big cavity where the bandit 
kept his horse and where he had plenty of feed and water. Then 
Kut proceeded to help the cook, and soon they were enjoying an 
excellent little supper of ham and eggs, potatoes and onions , with 
crackers and cheese and butter and real coffee. It was nice and 
warm away back in there and they enjoyed it to the full. And, as 
Kel had told the officers, the cuss was a musician, and they found 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 183 

a very fine and expensive silver-mounted guitar and fine banjo—both 
with a Barcelona mark on them. 

“Most likely that is where he originally hailed from,” observed 
Keldora. 

After they had the money and jewelry all sorted out and packed 
up. for the journey back to town the next day, they tuned up the 
instruments and for about two hours the lovers had a music-fest— 
a real soul-treat—as they could play together perfectly. 

“Oh, aren’t these instruments just grand!”' exclaimed Kel, 
after playing them both awhile. 

“The greatest I ever saw,” admitted Kut. 

“We’ll sure keep these and take them home with us. I didn’t 
know there were such fine and wonderful instruments made. Why, 
the poor devil must have been a real musician and more or less of 
a poet,” sighed Kel as she thot of his untimely death—and at her 
hands, too. 

“How about all this money, dear?” asked Kut as they were 
sorting it into piles and tying it up. 

“I think we deserve some of it, for if we hadn’t found it, the 
chances are it would never have been found,” meditated Kel. 

“Very well; I suggest that we keep one hundred thousand dol¬ 
lars for ourselves and turn the balance and the jewelry over to the 
officers of Helena,” said Kut. 

“All but this wonderful canary diamond, for I am just crazy 
about it and it fits my finger perfectly,” and Kel had it on her finger 
and was admiring it. It was a wonderful three-karat stone of un¬ 
canny and supernatural brilliancy of the first water, and I don’t 
blame the girl for wanting it. 

Aftqr a hearty breakfast the next morning, they packed their 
treasures on the horses and rode leisurely back to town, and went 
to Walden’s home first and left the wonderful guitar and banjo 
and the part they intended to keep, and then, with Zen and Walden, 
they carried the rest of the money and the jewelry to the Mayor’s 
office and he notified the superintendent of the mine. 

The mine’s money had not even been opened and every cent 
was there. The superintendent counted out the twenty thousand 
dollars reward and paid it to Kel and she suggested that if the right¬ 
ful owners of the other one hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars 
could not be found, the money be turned over to the hospital fund 
to help endow the institution; and the same with the jewelry. 

“How in the world did you ever find his cave so quickly?” 


184 


RED KLOVER. 


asked the mine official, and he looked his profound amazement and 
admiration. 

“Onions!” smiled Kel in her sweetest and most provoking 
manner. 

“What on earth has onions to do with it?” asked the Mayor 
in more amazement. 

Then Kel laughingly told of the search /md how she at last 
smelled onions and knew they must come from his den where he 
had been cooking them, and that guided them right to the place. 

“Well, of all the wonderful detective work this takes the gold 
medal!” exclaimed the Mayor. “Mr. Badd, I want to congratu¬ 
late you again,” and the Mayor shook Kut’s hand and then reached 
for Kel’s hand, who smiled and said: 

“Gentlemen, you see that we women do amount to some¬ 
thing—even if you all are too narrow and selfish to want us to 
vote” 

“Never again will I oppose woman suffrage!” fervently shouted 
the Mayor, and every man present said “Amen!” 

The news of how Kel and Kut had found the outlaw’s cache 
by the aid of onions soon spread, and everyone had a big laff and 
exclaimed: 

“Nothing is impossible to the Little Suffrajet! She is a super- 
woman and her husband is the luckiest man in all the world!” 

Chapter XXX. 

THE ROAD THAT LEADS BACK HOME. 

They all went back to Walden’s home, and that night the Gov¬ 
ernor entertained all four of them at a theater party, and it was 
a happy and memorable event and enjoyed by all. 

Walden soon straightened out their mine and had it paying 
big dividends, and as he had a very flattering offer for it, he wired 
his father asking what to do, and the old Captain wired back: 

“Sell it and come home.” 

That settled it; besides, both Walden and his wife longed to 
get back to their dear old Ozarks and be among their kin and loved 
ones. 

The next day Walden sold the mine to a company from St. 
Paul and cleared more than four hundred thousand dollars on it, 
besides the eighty thousand dollars it had paid him since he assumed 
the management of it. The new company offered him thirty thou¬ 
sand dollars a year to remain and be their superintendent; but his 


7 HE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 185 

longing for the old folks at home and the dear old hills and The Cat¬ 
fish were too strong to be resisted; besides, Zen was also home¬ 
sick and just wouldn’t live so far away from Kel, and Kel said she 
couldn’t think of being so far away from her little Zenda; so it was 
all settled and in a few days the four happy mortals started on 
the Lovers’ Lane That Leads Back Home; and oh, how they 
all enjoyed the trip! They stopped off two days in Butte, three 
days in St. Apolis and Minne Paul, a day in Omaha, and three days 
in Kansas 'City, and then on to Springfield, Missouri. 

While in St. Paul, they all went out and paid Captain Burton 
and his family a brief visit. When the bluff old river man was in¬ 
troduced to Kut by Kel, he stared in amazement and exclaimed: 
“Well, sufferin’ catfish! but, little girl, you sure picked out a man.” 
And the way the old Captain grasped Kut’s hand bore full tes¬ 
timony to his sincerity. 

Colonel Storm met the four lovers at Springfield with four 
horses, and when Kel and Zen saw Prince and Wingie, they were 
indeed happy and their joy knew no bounds. Pauline was over 
visiting with the Storms and had ridden Wingie, and the Colonel 
knew how delighted Zen would be to have her own beloved little 
mare again; and Wingie and Prince recognized their beloved mis¬ 
tresses at dght, and ran to them and rubbed their noses against 
them just like they used to do in the old days at Nashville. 

Kel had not wired her parents of her sudden and romantic 
marriage, as she wished to surprise them. She merely wrote to 
him to bring four horses, as she had a guest; so her father had no 
idea who the guest was; anyway, it was all right if it was Kel’s 
guest. 

“Daddy, meet my guest, Mr. Kutly Badd, who is also my 
husband /” and the little witch just laffed as the two stalwart men 
clasped hands and looked each over critically. 

“Well, you little rascal, you! to not tell us a thing about it— 
just spoke of him as a guest!” and he gathered her to his heart and 
kissed and squeezed her till Kut was almost jealous. 

“And you sure got a man, my child;” and he looked his son- 
in-law over carefully and then put his arm around Kut’s broad and 
athletic shoulders and said: “My son, I am well pleased with you, 
and I wish you and Kel every happiness. She has promised me 
and her mother that she would bring her husband home to live 
here with us, where there is plenty of land and room for us all; so 
I am delighted to welcome you home.” 


RED KLOVER . 


186 


“Thank you, Father Storm; and I shall always try to be a 
faithful and dutiful son;” and Kut returned the elder man’s caress 
and handclasp with interest. 

As Kel saw that her daddy was pleased with her choice, she 
was indeed happy. And oh, to be on her beloved Prince again! 
What joyi Her cup was full and running over; and Zen and Wal¬ 
den would also be near her. Was ever a girl so supremely happy? 

They went to a hotel and remained that night, and took in a 
good performance at the Baldwin Theater; and the next morning, 
bright and early, they all started for home, and it was a happy party 
and a joyful ride. Sometimes the girls would let Wingie and 
Prince out and ride on ahead for awhile, and then they would drop 
back and ride with their husbands, and sometimes Kel would ride 
with her father for awhile. 

They reached home about 9 o’clock, and Mr&. Storm and Aunt 
Millie had a bountiful repast ready for the prodigals, and they all 
enjoyed it, too. But when Mrs. Storm learned that the guest was 
her son-in-law , she was almost bumped off the Christmas tree; how¬ 
ever, she recovered instantly and gave him a welcome that put 
.the last finishing touch to his happiness and to Kel’s. 

“I’m so glad, Kel, that you picked out a big man—a real, sure- 
enuff man!” and they all smiled as Mrs. Storm continued to look 
Kut over from syntax to harvest. 

Poor Kut simply could not keep back the blushes, but he man¬ 
aged to stammer: 

“I’m so glad you’re pleased with me, mother and the look 
of love and gratitude he gave her warmed her heart to him at once;, 
“and I shall try my best to always be a dutiful son and make your 
daughter happy,” simply and modestly said the boy. 

Then they all fell to and enjoyed the supper, and Kel asked a 
thousand questions about one thing or another. 

“And, daddy,” said Kel, “Kut is a real musician, and our 
voices just track beautifully together.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Mrs. Storm, “for you are so 
crazy about music it would be a mistake if your husband was not 
a musician;” and she smiled a sweet look at Kut, and he blushed 
again, but looked foolishly happy. 

“And, mamma, he’s promised me that he will always obey 
me in everything,” and Kel gave her husband a mocking smile,; 
they all laffed heartily at that, and the Colonel dryly remarked: 

“Of course, we could all guess that,” and he reached over and 


THE OUTLAW AND SUFFRAJET. 187 

gave her a hug, and then turned to Kut with: “And you’d better 
keep that promise, young man.” 

“Yes, I’ve come to the same conclusion already,” replied Kut; 
and they all laffed at Kel’s blushes. 

The Storms just made Walden and Zenda stay there and rest 
a week before continuing their journey to the Vancefield home. 
That was a week never to be forgotten. 

Then it was arranged for Pauline to return with her brother, 
and Kel and Zen made arrangements to visit each other every three 
months, and Pauline would soon be married and live about mid¬ 
way between the Storms and Vancefields, so they could stop off 
there and visit her on their way back and forth. 

Pauline married a fine young man who was well to do, and his 
name was Page Blanton; he came from good stock on both sides, 
and it was a real love-match all around. 

While Kut was in Minneapolis he returned the money he bor¬ 
rowed from the South Dakota bank and with six per cent interest 
added; so that transaction was off his mind and he felt infinitely 
better on account of it. 

About three years later, Kel got a letter with a Canadian stamp 
and post-mark, which read: 

“Dear Miss Storm, —I am the ex-bandit that you shot and 
captured on the train that day. I soon got back to Canada, 
where there was nothing against me, and immediately reformed, 
and have lived an honest and upright life ever since. About a 
year after I escaped, I met and married the dearest little French 
girl in all the world, and we have a beautiful little girl, whom 
we have named Kel. 

“I attribute my reformation to you and the kind way you 
treated me after my capture. I remember the look of pity you 
gave me, instead of one of hate—as I had a right to expect. I 
have read of your wonderful exploits, and shall always hold your 
memory in reverence. 

“Sincerely yours, L. C. T.” 

This letter gave Kel real joy, for she hated to be compelled to 
turn him over to the tender mercies of the police, but she had no 
other alternative at the time. 

About eighteen months later, Walden and Zen were blessed 
with a son and they named him Nuston, and three years later 
a beautiful little girl came to bless their lives, and as she was a liv- 


188 


RED KLOVER. 


ing image of Kel, she was named Kelta Woodbine Vancefield. 

About two and a half years after Kel married, she had a dauter 
that was a replica of Zen, and named her Zenden Lucile Badd; and 
her son, who arrived three years later, was named Kumdon Kuston 
Badd. 

The Colonel and Mrs. Storm grew fonder of their son-in-law 
every year and just worshiped their grandchildren; and Kel and 
Kut were ever ideally happy. It was a beautiful sight on summer 
evenings to see the four of them out in the big grapevine swing, 
playing and singing together. 

Walden and Zenda were just as happy and devoted to each 
other, and the Vancefields just worshiped Zen and idolized her 
children. 

And the happiest hours of the old Captain’s life were when Kut 
and Kel came over to visit them and they, all drifted along the 
White River in The Catfish. And how the stormy old man liked 
to dream in this Valhalla, as his declining steps tottered toward 
the West! How he always liked to recall the summer day that 
brought Kel and Zen to his door! 

Colonel Storm and his wife became about twenty years younger 
after Kut and Kel came to live with them; and it was a happy 
sight to see the four of them mount their horses and, with their 
instruments, ride away in the hills and spend the day singing and 
playing and just dreaming—and living. 

Kel devoted considerable time to writing and in the next ten 
years gave the world some real literature—in the form of seven 
books and several plays and a number of songs and two operas; 
and she painted several canvases that attracted much attention, 
but she would no more part with a painting than with one of her 
children. 

And her husband always obeyed her, for she was The Suffrajet , 
and her great love and humanity conquered all she met—man or 
beast. Her wonderful personality drew all hearts to her, and none 
ever wanted to get away. She had all sorts of positions offered 
her, but just her own little love-nest in the dear old Ozarks and 
a simple and natural life with the birds and flowers and trees, and 
her own loved ones about her, was the only life she craved—the 
only fame that reached the spot and tasted like a square meal. 


THE END. 


A STRANGE CASE. 


• Chapter I. 

Kumdon Jacquez Spry was a tall and well-built young man of 
excellent ancestry on both sides. He was born and reared in West 
Virginia, not far from Wheeling, and learned to swim in the Ohio 
River when he was but six years old. His father was a hardy mount¬ 
aineer of the same State, but his mother came from Maryland. 

Kumdon showed early symptoms of literary talent and an in¬ 
clination to write and paint. His nature was a dreamy and ro¬ 
mantic one, and his mind naturally drifted to the occult and mys¬ 
terious—in fact, anything unusual or the least bit mysterious had 
an interest for him. His blood was also well supplied with the wan¬ 
derlust germs. He was also very fond of music and athletic sports. 
The narrow and hard life of the mountainer farmer did not appeal 
to him at all. His dreamy and poetic nature came from his moth¬ 
er’s side of the house. Her people embraced a long line of writers, 
artists, and musicians and several brilliant military leaders. Kum- 
don’s father was a poor farmer of the hill variety and inclined to 
dreaming and moonshining rather than work. 

At the time the events of this story occurred (1876), the educa¬ 
tional facilities of West Virginia were very limited, and especially 
was this true of the country and mountainous districts. Most of 
the teaching was done by circuit-riders during the winter months, 
and this kind of an education was mostly moonshine about the 
“Next World ” and similar pious bunk. The real object of all such 
education is to keep the poor boobs in mental darkness, so they 
won’t notice the clever hands that deftly pick their pockets. This 
fact dawned on Kumdon’s mind when he was about fifteen years old. 

An erratic and broad-minded artist from effete Boston was 
spending his vacation in the old hills about Wheeling one summer, 
and a sudden and severe storm drove him post-haste to the Spry 
log-house home nestling in a ravine about half-way up the side of 
the mountain'. Of course, the stranger was given shelter and ex¬ 
tended the hospitality of the place. He remained that evening and 
until the following afternoon, when the storm had abated, then he 
took leave of his host and family. 

Kumdon was fifteen years old at the time he met this strange 


189 



190 


RED KLOVER. 


and talented man, and an immediate liking sprang up between the 
boy and the man. That night the artist showed the boy a few 
things about drawing—how to draw a horse, a cow, a dog, etc* 
The lad showed such aptness in learning art that he begged his fath¬ 
er to let him guide the artist around in the vicinity and take lessons 
from him during his stay in the naborhood. 

The artist, Palmert Velios, was a man of considerable wealth, 
and was so pleased and touched by the simple kindness and genu¬ 
ine hospitality of the mountain folk that he offered to take Kum- 
don under his tutelage and render him all the assistance in his pow¬ 
er, but declined to accept any remuneration for it. So it was de¬ 
cided to let Kumdon accompany Monsieur Vallos on his rambles 
and try out his hand at the painting game. 

Kumdon not only got valuable knowledge in the art line from 
M. Vallos, but he got many other new and wonderful ideas about 
life and the great world outside the narrow confines of West Vir¬ 
ginia. He learned, among other things, that, the great universe was 
eternal and existed and performed in accordance with natural law 
instead of being created out of Nothing and arbitrarily brought 
into existence by some unknown Being. He also learned that man 
knows nothing about “another world” and has no relation to any 
world but this one and his fellow-creatures. These few simple 
natural facts greatly cleared the lad’s mind of its cobwebs and laid 
the foundation for a real education, which the youth was determined 
to have. 

“My boy,” said M. Vallos to Kumdon, “you must always be 
honest, sincere, kind, courteous, clean, and natural, and always be 
sure of yourself and your ground, and never take anything for 
granted.” 

“That’s just the way I feel about it and the way I want to do,” 
returned the lad gratefully. 

“ The best way to be successful and happy is to behave yourself, 
play the Game of Life fairly, keep your nose at home, and do your 
best to make others happy,” continued M. Vallos. “This is about 
the sum total of philosophy, and should be your aim in life;” and 
he patted the boy on his head and received a smile of assent and 
gratitude in return. 

The artist gave the boy several good books to read and helped 
him to understand them; and when the time came for M. Vallos 
to return to the great city of schools, art, and crookedness, he gave 
Kumdon more than a dozen splendid books—the kind of literature 


A STRANGE CASE. 


191 

that causes the soul to grow and expand and is broadening, helpful, 
and civilizing. 

Monsieur Vallos spent many a Sunday and evening at the 
Spry home and also became a great friend of the family At first, 
as is the case with all strangers, the elder Spry had very serious 
doubts about the artist being a “revenooer,” as the Federal agents 
are designated by the natives—whether said natives are in the 
moonshine business or not. For two days the elder Spry secretly 
kept the boy and his new friend under strict surveillance; after that 
he was satisfied the artist was genuine and became very friendly 
toward him, and so did his family and the few nabors who met M. 
Vallos. 

The artist painted an excellent picture of the Spry home and 
yard with the mountain for a background, and he set the boy to 
making a copy of it. After a few triafs, Kumdon made quite a 
creditable copy of it, and this pleased the old folks very much and 
the boy was simply swelled up like war prices and city rents. The 
artist presented this rare canvas to the elder Spry. 

On the 2d of October, M. Vallos very reluctantly packed up 
his brushes and pallette and returned to Boston. 

Kumdon promised to write to his new friend, and his first let¬ 
ter caused the artist many a smile. Here it is verbatim’. 

“Lone Rige West Virginny; okT, 27—187-. 

Dere fren; I wil rite you a fue lynes to let you kno that We be all 
wel and hope you all ar the same, we shure do all mis you all dred- 
ful and hope you wil com back sum time agen. WE ar al wel cept’n 
paw an wun ov the sheepe, aNd it dide last nite, but paw he haz 
gud helthe. MaW and sis went blackberry’n erbot tu weKs ergo 
and kild er Big blAcksnak an 3 squrls, besids pik’n 4 gains uv Berys 
Sumboddy piznd OL’ Hijump ther houn, and paw lowd mayby it 
wuz wun ov 01 ’ MaN jaCksons niggers; anYway the houn woz 
getn tew old tu mont tu much and paw lowd mayby ther nigger 
wood get snakbit and di in hiz sins. HanK sanders old gra mare 
wus struK by litnin an Old ant MarY Martyne haz toothacke in 
hur easte Jaw. Sum OV the foks herabots stiL think mayBy you 
wuZ er Revenuer, but paw ’lowd they wuz fools, an i Offerd to lick 
JaKe peters fert hinkn it, but he Had tu much yaller In him ter fite. 
wel I ges this iss erbot awl, exsept the nuw techur we’r goin tew hav 
this Wintere, and he’s frum oHio and tha du saye heze a gude Man 
hopeing We all here Frum you awl soone. 

“EVer yOur Tru fren 


Kumdon.” 



192 


RED KLOVER . 


“Some letter!” mused M. Vallos to himself. “However, the 
youngster is a diamond in the ruff and will come out in the clear 
eventually.” 

The artist made a correct typewritten copy of the letter and 
sent it to Kumdon with a short and friendly one of his own, and 
told the boy to compare the two and thus find out how many mis¬ 
takes he made and just what mistakes. 

The next letter of the boy’s was about a 60 per cent improve¬ 
ment, and each letter continued to improve until he was able to 
write a correct and really intersting epistle. 

Chapter II. 

KUMDON BECOMES AN ARTIST. 

The artist’s interest ip the boy was really the cause of a great 
career on the part of the lad. 

Many a tree would have flourished and borne excellent fruit if 
it had been provided with the right kind of soil and temperature 
and had been given plenty of moisture when it needed it. Mil¬ 
lions of human trees perish or live a fruitless existence on account 
of being denied proper environment and education. This is one of 
the saddest tragedies under an obsolete system of Dollarized Re¬ 
ligion; or, Getting Something for Nothing. 

With the assistance of the artist and the right kind of books 
to read, Kumdon made rapid strides up the ladder of education; 
and as he now knew the right principles of drawing and painting, 
he made wonderful strides in his beloved hobby, “makin’ picturs,” 
as he used to call it. 

Kumdon’s father was interested in the wonders and possibili¬ 
ties of art and a real education and he encourged Kundom to pur¬ 
sue his studies, and required but little farm labor from him. 

When Kumdon was a little past seventeen years old, he went 
up to Wheeling early in May with his father and two of the nabors 
with about sixty head of cattle belonging to the three farmers joint¬ 
ly. Out of this number Kumdon owned three steers, which brot 
him $52.80. 

As it was late in the day when the stock was marketed, the 
farmers decided to remain in the city till the following day, so they 
could see a little of the bright lights and thus have some real news 
for their nabors when they returned home. Just as they finished 
their suppers at a restaurant near the river, a packet came to the 
wharf and began to discharge its passengers and cargo. 


A STRANGE CASE. 


i 93 

“Dad,” said Kumdon, “Pm goin’ down and watch the boat 
awhile,” and the lad was off like a rocket. 

The boat was soon ready to proceed on its way down the river, 
and just as the boat-hands began to pull up the gangplank, Kum¬ 
don made a run and jump and landed on deck just in time. 

“Well, my boy, where are you bound for?” inquired the Mate, 
as he saw the lad make the run and jump for the deck. 

“No place in particular, I reckon,” replied Kumdon; “Pve 
made up my mind to see the world from the outside and make my 
own way, so Pm just starting to carve out a career of some kind;” 
and he looked the man squarely in the eye and never faltered nor 
flinched. 

“Good!” exclaimed the Mate. “I like to hear a rooster crow 
that way; it means he’s a game cock and has no yellow in his make¬ 
up. What can you do, bub?” and he laid his ponderous hand on 
the boy’s shoulder in a kind and encouraging way. 

“ I want to be an artist and a reporter—to write and draw pict¬ 
ures,” said Kumdon. 

“Huh! Some boy!” exclaimed the Mate. “What can you 
draw, youngster?” 

“Oh, ’most anything, I guess—a man, a horse, or a cow, or 
this boat” replied Kumdon; and he looked around the wonderful 
craft with pride and growing interest. It was the second boat he 
ever saw, and of course it was a wonderberry to his verdant and 
hungry mind. 

“All right, my hearty,” said the Mate; “we’ll make a necktie 
out of the first rainbow that shows up for you; and in the mean¬ 
time it behooves me to duly present you to the captain of this 
worthy craft. Come alongside, my hearty young rookie, and I’ll 
give Captain Stephens the pleasure of your acquaintance.” Then 
he piloted the boy to the Captain’s castle and duly introduced the 
youngster to that important individual. “Captain Stephens, meet 
Mr. Kumdon Jacquez Spry, a very spry youth, who says he is an 
artist and writer and is just butting the universe in the slats in the 
way of carving out a career for himself,” facetiously exclaimed the 
Mate in a friendly way. 

“Glad to meet you, Captain Kidd,” said the Captain, and he 
grasped the boy’s hand in a warm and hearty clasp that made the 
blood tingle in the youngster’s veins. “And so ye be an artist?” 

“Yes, I can draw a little and have a taste for that line of work,” 
modestly admitted the boy. 


194 


RED KLOVER. 


“Very well, my hearty,” continued the Captain; “we’ll see 
what you can do to-morrow. I don’t know but we need some real 
art on this prosaic old tub. Mack, give the young rooster a bunk 
and see that he has plenty to eat, and tie a life-preserver and an 
anchor to him. so he won’t get lost and drowned if he falls over¬ 
board. Just amuse yourself, Mr. Gulliver, and when you get sleepy 
hit the hay. Good-night and pleasant dreams.” 

Kumdon went down on deck, being attracted by the banjo 
and the singing and dancing of the darkies—the deck-hands. This 
was a revelation and a treat to' the lad, for he never saw such won¬ 
derful stunts before. Kumdon , was no mean performer on the 
banjo, guitar, and fiddle himself. After watching them awhile, he 
hunted up “Mack” ( McDaniels ) and asked for a big piece of paper 
or something he could draw on. The Mate happened to have some 
big cardboards that were 36x44 and he supplied the youngster with 
one and told him to go to it. 

Kumdon returned to the festivities down on deck and began 
to make a sketch of the whole deck and the negroes dancing and 
singing in their grotesque and weird way. He soon had a splendid 
picture; and, with the colored pencils he had procured that day 
in Wheeling, he was well prepared to make real pictures and color 
them true to life. 

The Mate was so pleased with the picture that he at once car¬ 
ried it and the boy to the Captain. That ruff but kind old man 
was delighted with it and praised it highly. He also petted Kum¬ 
don and had the lad eat with him after that and introduced him 
as his guest. This was an endorsement that greatly helped the 
boy and at once made him a favorite on the boat. 

The next day the young artist went ashore at the towns where 
the boat remained ior any length of time, and soon had a good 
sketch of the whole craft, shore, wharf, and all; and, what was 
better, he caught a good view of the Captain conversing with two 
ladies in his pilot-house, and the Captain was pointing out the places 
of interest about the town, etc. Kumdon caught a good view of 
them all in flattering poses and soon had it on the canvas. Of 
course, the Captain never dreamed that he and the ladies were 
posing for their pictures, and when Kumdon showed the finished 
picture the next day, the old man gasped and exclaimed: 

“Well, shiver my timbers! but that is real art; and you young 
pirate, you caught the old man right in the midst of it;” then he 
drew the lad to him and gave him a hug that would have made a 


A STRANGE CASE. 


l 9S 

grizzly bear ashamed of its squeezing abilities. “As soon as we 
reach Cincinnati I’m going to have this picture framed and hung 
up in the cabin downstairs, where the passengers can all see it and 
admire it; and I should like to have another one to hang in my 
home in Cincinnati;” and he looked at the boy inquiringly. 

“Certainly, sir,” said Kumdon; “I shall be pleased to make 
another for you;” and the boy blushed with pride and happiness. 

When the boat reached the Ohio metropolis four days later, 
Kumdon had many more interesting sketches he had made along 
the route; he finished several of these for his good friend, Captain 
Stephens. 

As the boat was approaching Cincinnati, the boy asked Cap¬ 
tain Stephens how much he owed him for fare, board, etc. 

“Why, not a cent, you young pirate,” replied the Captain; 
“you’ve been my guest and I have greatly enjoyed your company, 
and the pictures more than pay your fare, etc. What are you going 
to do when we reach port at Cinci?” 

“Well, I hardly know,” replied Kumdon; “get a job if I can. 
I want to be a reporter and make pictures for the paper, etc., if 
they will have me;” and he looked rather doubtful. 

“How much money have you?” kindly asked the Captain. 

“Very little,” admitted the youth; “but I can work hard and 
soon save up some money;” and he gave the Captain a determined 
look. 

“You’re the right kind, my boy,” continued the Captain, “and 
I know you will succeed. But you had better come along out to 
my place and stay there until you can get a job. We’ve got a 
couple of spare rooms, and we have no children. We have a girl 
about your age—my niece—and you won’t be a bit lonesome; and 
any time you want to go back up to Wheeling to see your people it 
won’t cost you a cent.” 

So the Captain carried the boy out to his quiet little suburban 
home and introduced him to his wife and niece. 

Mrs. Stephens was a quiet and intellectual little woman, with 
strong maternal instincts and a deep and wide sympathy for the 
human race. She received Kumdon cordially and bade him wel¬ 
come to their home. 

The niece was a pretty little brunette about seventeen years old, 
and a music student. She was vivacious and lively and had a de¬ 
cidedly romantic temperament. She liked Kumdon from the time 
they met, and proceeded to make things comfortable for him. Her 


RED KLOVER. 


196 

name was about as odd and romantic as Kumdon’s and this was an¬ 
other tie that drew them toward one another. 

“What an odd and pretty name you have, Mr. Spry I” ex¬ 
claimed the girl as soon as he had spelled and pronounced it for her 
and the missus. 

“I am so glad you like it,” said Kumdon; “and what is your 
name?” 

“Well, Uncle Langdon always teases me about my romantic 
name,” said the girl, “but I like it and I think it just suits me. It 
is Yulvern Vecil Stephens. When my daddy got killed in a boat 
explosion I came to live with Uncle Langdon, and he’s just the best 
uncle in all the world; but he loves to tease me;” and she went 
over to where her bluff old uncle was sitting by the window and 
wound a pretty white arm around his willing neck and kissed him. 
“But you must not tease Kumdon so much, uncle, for I can see 
that he is bashful;” and she gave the boy a sweet look that tuned 
up the stars for him and made them all sing together. 

“Never you mind, Yulvern,” said the Captain; “that young 
pirate will give a good account of himself in any kind of a bout;” 
and the old sea dog laffed good-naturedly. “Why the second 
day out from Wheeling,” continued the Captain, “a smart young 
fop about twenty years old saw Kumdon sketching and at once pro¬ 
ceeded to guy him. The first thing any of us knew the two were 
grappling like a couple of professionals, and before Mack or me 
could get to them, we saw the gay young bird go over the rail and 
into the water with a might splash! and that bashful young pirate 
there leaned against the rail and smiled as serenely as a June night 
on the Suwanee River in Florida. If it hadn’t been for the quick 
action of the niggers in getting a rope to him, we’d a-been shy a 
passenger;” and the old pirate just laffed until he almost burst. 
“Don’t you all worry about that youngster,” the Captain went on; 
“he’s a game bird all right, and can trot in ’most any class.” 

Kumdon remarked: “You certainly have an odd and a very 
pretty name, Miss Ste—” 

“No, no—don’t call me Miss Stephens—just Yulvern ,” said the 
girl, “and I’ll call you Kumdon;” and her smile tangled the aorta 
and its pals about his heart until he had difficulty in breathing. 

“Very well, Yulvern ,” said Kumdon; “it is so sweet of you 
to permit me to thus address you; and Kumdon coming from your 
lips will be just like Septober moonlight dreaming on the rippling 
Water.” 


A STRANGE CASE. 


197 


This last bit of poetic fervor from the boy’s lips did not reach 
the old folks, but it sent a thrill over the girl’s nerves that painted 
landscapes in her soul and zigzagged the vines and flowers across 
her heart. 

Chapter III. 

KUMDON GETS A JOB. 

Captain Stephens remained home two days before starting on 
his next trip to Wheeling. Before leaving, he wrote a letter of in¬ 
troduction and recommendation for Kumdon, in which he spoke of 
the boy in the warmest and highest terms. With this letter he had 
no trouble in getting a job on a big daily paper—as a reporter; and 
as Kumdon was also an artist and cartoonist, he was able to illus¬ 
trate his reports and stories, and the city editor at once recognized 
the value of these little illustrated news items and storyets. He 
spoke of it to the Big Finger and that astute individual at once gave 
the boy a raise of ten dollars a week—which now brought his salary 
up to twenty-five dollars a week—a very comfortable sum in the 
young man’s eyes. He was started at fifteen dollars a week and 
promised more if he made good. Kumdon possessed a rare sense 
of humor and a true insight into the reality of things. He was 
quick to detect the incongruities and inconsistencies in current life 
and he fell to taking off these inconsistencies in a humorous way 
with little cartoons. The management was quick to detect the 
value of these little innovations in a r^portetj and iniid# of 
months the lad got another increase of salary—now receiving thirty 
dollars a week, and being assigned-to important places and events. 

Kumdon was also making a big hit up at the Captain’s, and he 
and Yulvern were real pals and comrades from the start. Their 
natures were tuned together like two harpstrings, and the result 
was a beautiful harmony and co-operation. She was delighted 
when she discovered the boy had musical talent and was no mean 
artist with the banjo, guitar, and violin. They soon learned to 
play together; and Yulvern played the piano and guitar' and had 
a beautiful contralto voice, and Kumdon sang a very sweet and 
clear tenor, so they spent many happy hours together at their music. 

Kumdon had an awful time trying to get Mrs. Stephens to ac¬ 
cept anything for his room and board, and it was only when he 
declared his intention of going elsewhere that she gave in and agreed 
to accept three dollars a week. 

The Captain and Mrs. Stephens considered Kumdon as one of 


198 


RED KLOVER . 


the family, and were very proud of his achievements and abilities; 
and his modest and courteous manners won him many friends— 
in fact, “the little pirate,” as the old Captain liked to call him, was 
doing a very satisfactory job at making good. He was climbing 
the ladder without a downward slip. His finding such a real friend 
and champion in Captain Stephens and the Captain’s family was 
a very fortunate thing for the boy, and especially so at a time when 
he needed friends and guidance. 

After Kumdon had been with the paper a year he received 
another salary uplift of five dollars, and out of his thirty-five dol¬ 
lars a week he was laying up a very comfortable little sum for a 
rainy day. He had no bad habits nor evil companions and these 
facts were valuable assets. Kumdon invested quite a bit of his 
earnings in good books and studied diligently. 

Kumdon joined an athletic club and practiced the manly art, 
and was fast becoming quite an athlete. He got that idea from 
Yulvern and anything she suggested was law to the young man. 
Before he had known her a week, he found himself writing her ro¬ 
mantic name on scraps of paper—just to see how it looked. One 
day a month later, while waiting for a strelk {street car), he uncon¬ 
sciously (or subconsciously) wrote it this way: “Mrs. Kumdon 
Jacquez Spry.” This so frightened him he immediately tore it up 
and tossed the bits to the breezes. If there was any other girl in 
Cincinnati, Kumdon had not discovered her. 

On the beginning of July of the following year, the paper told 
Kumdon he might have a thirty-day vacation on full pay. When 
he told his friends about it, the old Captain advised him to take a 
trip to the Crescent City—the New York of the South. New Orleans 
is a delightful old place in which to rummage around and enjoy a 
lazy and dreamy life at little expense. 

Thru the Captain, Kumdon had come to know all the river 
men running thru Cincinnati. He had a natural fondness for the 
water, and never tired of the river and its teeming and erratic life. 
There was something mysterious and occult about the river that 
gripped his soul and said, “Howdy?” 

The Paducah , a beautiful and speedy little boat, was due to 
depart for New Orleans in a few days, and Kumdon was intro¬ 
duced to its jolly Captain, Hadley Summers. Captain Summers 
had already heard of the young artist-reporter and was delighted 
to know he would have him for a passenger all the way down. Cap¬ 
tain Stephens had spoken highly of the young man and asked that 


A STRANGE CASE . 


199 


he be accorded every courtesy, both as his friend and as a very 
clever reporter. As Captain Summers was an astute business man 
as well as an old experienced river man, he easily saw the wisdom 
of being especially nice to young Spry. 

“Oh, Kumdon!” said Yulvern, “you’ll write to me every day 
and a couple of times on Sundays, won’t you?” and her smiles were 
soft and penetrating—like camphor and ether, and even more sed¬ 
ative in their action, for the youngster readily agreed to write 
every day—or ojtener. “And oh, Kumdon, I ’ll just write you some 
of the dandiest letters and tell you everything!” exclaimed the girl 
in a joy of delight. 

“Then my trip will indeed be a vacation and a dream” said 
Kumdon, and he gave her the look she longed for—the smile that 
neckties the heart with a rainbow and gives the soul a soft and limpid 
Septober shade to dream in. 

“And oh, Kumdon,” continued Yulvern, “do be careful and 
don’t get hurt or killed, for I’d—I’d—yes, I’d miss you—oh, ever 
so much!” and then she hung her pretty head at half-mast and 
blushed in those wild and primeval shades that are so expressive 
of adolescence. 

“I thank you, Yulvern, for those dear words,” said Kumdon; 
“and if you miss me any more than I will miss you, it will be a 
real missing game.” 

And then he carefully and with exact precision harvested the 
girl in his arms, and—well, it’s just none of our business, so I’ll 
not intrude and try to relate the match; I’ll merely add that it 
was a limited number of rounds without a decision—as they heard 
her uncle’s ponderous footsteps meandering their way. 

“Oh, Uncle Langdon!” exclaimed Yulvern, “I was just telling 
Kumdon to be very careful on his vacation and not get hurt or 
killed, and he has just promised to write to us every day—so we’ll 
know how he is.” 

“Are you sure he promised to write to us?” asked her relative, 
with a merry and knowing twinkle in his starboard eye; and the 
way the old pirate emphasized the word “us” caused them both to 
hang their heads at half-mast and blush a violent duet. 

“Now, uncle, you know what I mean,” said Yulvern, and she 
sidled over to his side and wound her pretty arms around his neck 
and just sighed and looked happy. 

“Yes, I think your uncle knows what you mean,” replied the 
Captain,“ for you both are blushing in italics and circus type.” Then, 


200 


RED KLOVER . 


turning to Kumdon, he said: “Well, you young pirate, take good 
care of yourself and learn all you can and have a good time, and 
write to ‘us’ real often.” 

The lad sure did have a fine time on his Southern trip, and 
learned many new and wonderful things, and made many new 
sketches, and gathered lots of data for future use in his profession. 
Some of this new material he illustrated and sent to his paper, and 
the management were so delighted with it and his rare descriptive 
abilities, they at once wrote and told him that when his vacation 
was up they had decided to send him on an extended trip thru 
the Southern States and to have him write-up the territory in a 
bright and breezy way and illustrate it. This just suited Kum¬ 
don, for it gave him the opportunity he wanted to travel and see 
more of the country. 1 

They arranged a trip that would keep Kumdon busy till De¬ 
cember. He was given carte blanche to stay as long in each town 
as he deemed necessary in order to get next to everything connect¬ 
ed with it that would be worth writing up, etc. 

“Use plenty of color, and make all your stories vivid and vi¬ 
brant with life and human interest,” wrote the management; “and 
don’t spare expense where it is necessary to get the materials you 
need. We want hot and sizzling stuff that will thrill our readers 
and make them like the paper. Go to it, young man, and draw 
on us for anything you need.” 

There was one little girl in Cinci that did not like this arrange¬ 
ment at all, but her uncle soon convinced her that it was a big boost 
for the boy, and she must bear it all patiently. 

“Why, just think of it!” said Captain Stephens to Yulvern; 
“he has only been here about two years and is now getting fifty 
dollars a week and his expenses, and assigned to such an important 
trip. The little pirate has sure climbed up rapidly and is still 
climbing.” 

“But, uncle, it’s so lonesome without him,” rejoined Yulvern. 

“Oh, sure!” said the Captain. “But isn’t he writing to ‘us’ 
real often?” and the old pirate gave Yulvern a hearty hug and 
was off. 

Yulvern protested the cruelty of Fate, but she had to content 
herself with Kumdon’s letters and pour out her budding soul in her 
letters to him. The boy sure did write his little sweetheart some 
beautiful and interesting letters, and the old Captain enjoyed these 


A STRANGE CASE. 201 

bubbling and effusive epistles about as much as did his romantic 
niece. 

Early in December the traveler returned and was so greatly 
changed they hardly knew him. He was about an inch taller and 
about fifteen pounds heavier, but greatly improved in every way, 
and with a mental cargo that made his keel scrape the bottom. He 
had not forgotten Yulvern and she had been true and loyal to him. 

“Just think, dear Kumdon,” said Yulvern, “I’ll finish high 
school next year and in two years I expect to finish in music, and 
then I’ll—well, I hardly know what I’ll do—in fact, I haven’t 
quite decided on a career yet.” 

“Perhaps it will be time enuff then to think of the future,” 
said Kumdon; and he took her in his arms and gave her a squeeze 
that blotted out all such trifling things as futures. “Besides, I 
need someone with a pretty face and an odd name to help me make 
my success a real achievement and color it with the bright and 
fadeless hues of happiness;” and their lips met in one of those one 
hundred and sixty-nine per cent kisses that color every flower and 
keep the wings up in the air—the kind of caresses that make every 
star green with envy; even the Man in the Moon moistens his lips 
hard every time he sees one of that kind of kisses put across. 

“Oh, Kumdon,” said Yulvern, “how sweet and romantic it 
will be to live this life as a duet! and that will make it a success for 
us both. But I won’t ever let you go off on any more long trips 
unless you take me with you.” 

“Well, little sweetheart,” replied Kumdon, “that is just what 
I should do after we-are married; and I don’t think the paper will 
send me out again soon. However, if they give me an assignment 
like that, I must be Johnny-on-the-Spot and make good.” 

£< Y-e-s—I suppose so,” said Yulvern; “but I hope they won’t 
send you away any more till after we are married.” 

“So do I, precious,” continued Kumdon. “But we will plow 
right thru the clouds—no matter what they are;” and they sealed 
their vows with another all-soul and Vast Forever kiss that makes 
faces at Death and says “Howdy?” to Eternity. They were very 
happy now, and there were no such animals as clouds. 

Kumdon’s trip was a big success in every way and made a big 
hit in newspaper circles. The young artist-reporter had several 
very flattering offers from other big papers, but he declined to 
leave the paper that had been so good to him and that had given 
him his first job. 


202 


RED KLOVER. 


The following May he obtained a short vacation for a home 
trip, as his mother’s health was failing rapidly, and his father had 
written and asked that he come home on a visit for awhile anyway. 
Kumdon’s trip home with the old Captain was a very delightful 
event and recalled many beautiful memories. His mother rapidly 
recovered after seeing her boy again. He remained home three 
weeks, and made many rare sketches, which he used later for the 
paper. 

Yulvern arranged a sweet surprise for Kumdon. She went up 
to Wheeling with her uncle and arranged it so she and Kumdon 
could return together, and oh, what a joy-trip it was! Kumdon 
did not know that she was aboard until he met her on the boat. 
Captain Stephens played it on the boy in good shape. As the two 
men walked on the boat, the Captain casually remarked: 

“Kumdon, I want you to meet an old friend of mine who is 
going down with us this trip.” 

“Delighted, I’m sure,” said Kumdon. “Who is he?” 

“Wait and see, young impatience,” replied the Captain; then 
he opened the cabin door and presented his niece. 

“Oh, indeed!” exclaimed Kumdon. “And this is a pleasure 
I never anticipated.” 

“The little witch planned it all herself,” said the Captain, “and 
I am only an accessory.” 

“But equally guilty,” laffed the boy, as he wound his arm 
around Yulvern’s shoulders and strolled back, toward the piano, 
where they proceeded to sing some of their favorite songs together. 

The home-trip was a dream never to be forgotten. The weather 
was ideal, and all the couple had to do was just to love and dream— 
and live, and they sure did it to the full. A full moon was skying 
the warm pulsing nights, and all Nature seemed bent on serenading 
them. And the old Captain’s cup w~as at flood-tide, for he had only 
had success since he met and befriended the poor boy that Chance 
and Fate threw aboard his craft—the Water Queen; and it was the 
dearest wish of his life that Kumdon and Yulvern marry and live 
with him and the missus. 

Chapter IV. 

KUMDON A HERO. 

It was the last of May when the lovers got back to the city 
and they both buckled in and worked harder than ever. Yulvern 
had to finish high school before she could think of getting married, 


A STRANGE CASE. 


203 


and Kiimdon had so many books to read and so many things he 
wanted to accomplish. Kumdon arranged with the paper to have 
only day work assigned him, in order that he might have the 
evenings with his affianced. 

At the time these events took place the rolks ( automobiles ) 
were unknown. The favorite mode of traveling about the city was 
with a horse and buggy or with two horses and a buggy or carriage. 

Kumdon was returning from covering a big fashionable wed¬ 
ding up on Walnut Hill about the center of June when his atten¬ 
tion was attracted by the wild and frantic yells of an elderly man 
trying to persuade a madly-fleeing horse to slow down to a decorous 
rate of speed and not fracture the speed limits. The animal was 
a high-brow critter from a famous Kentucky stable and had plenty 
of temperament and pep. He had become frightened or maddened 
at something or other and decided to mutiny right then and there 
by showing his master, old Dr. Templeton Saunders, how to run 
in the Daniel Patch class. The first plunge of the cantankerous 
beast had jerked the lines out of the Doctor’s nervous hands and 
that left the man with absolutely no means of stopping him except 
with speech , and that is a very poor cork for stopping a runaway 
animal with pep and temperament, but it was all the old Doctor 
could do, so he yelled his best and clung to the sides and top of the. 
buggy as best he could. 

When Kumdon sighted the land-lubber coming down the street 
at a fifty-mile an hour rate, he sized up the situation at a glance 
and acted immediately by jumping out in the street and grabbing 
the swift-fleeing brute as he swept by almost like a cannon-ball. 
The boy had been raised among horses and understood them well. 
His grip was a success, and with both hands on the bridle and swing¬ 
ing all his weight on the beast’s mouth and nose, he soon brot it 
to a stop. 

The old Doctor almost collapsed as he climbed and stumbled 
out of the vehicle and tried to thank Kumdon for his bravery. 

“Why, my brave young man,” said the Doctor, “you might 
have lost your own life or been crippled for life by the mad beast;” 
and he continued to shake the reporter’s hand and gaze in his face 
with reverent admiration. 

“Oh! that was nothing, sir, I assure you,” said Kumdon; “I 
merely did my duty, and I never think of little things like danger 
when Duty calls. I hope you are not hurt, sir;” and he got out 
his pad and pencil and began: 


204 


RED KLOVER. 


“I’m a reporter for the Daily Bull , and should like your name, 
sir, and the particulars of how the animal came to mutiny.” 

u 0 h, yes; I am ever so much obliged to you,” said the Doctor, 
“and if I can help you in any way with the facts, I shall be pleased 
to give them. My name is Dr. Templeton Saunders, and I live 
at-.” 

“Doctor, aren’t you connected with Ohio Medical College?” 
asked Kumdon. 

“Well, yes; I hold the chair of mental and nervous diseases,” 
replied the Doctor, “but it won’t be necessary to go into all of that. 
I guess I was more scared than hurt,” laffed the Doctor; “and 
if you don’t mind, I should like to have you drive home with me 
and stay for dinner if you will.” 

“Delighted, I assure you,” said Kumdon, “for we reporters 
have appetites like most healthy human beings;” and he clasped 
the Doctor’s hand again. 

“Hadn’t you better hold the ugly brute by the bridle till I 
get in and get a good hold on the lines?” asked the Doctor. 

“I guess that will be best; and if he don’t behave like a gen¬ 
tleman, I’ll twist his cervical vertebrse for him,” laffed the boy. 

“I’d like to knock his whole block off!” exclaimed the old Doc¬ 
tor, “for he had no reason whatever for such unseemly conduct.” 

Kumdon petted the animal and whispered some mysterious 
words in hip ear and a complete change came over the brute at once. 
He relaxed ahd seemed pacified now, for he looked at the old Doctor 
and actually smiled and rubbed his aristocratic nose against Kum¬ 
don and seemed as docile as a mid-August night in Cuba. Then 
Kumdon clambered in, and the nag trotted off like a soft sum¬ 
mer breeze playing hookey with the flowers and cypress trees of 
California. 

“My boy,” said the Doctor, “you must have hypnotized the 
critter, for now he is as rational as can be.” 

They soon reached the Doctor’s beautiful suburban home, and 
the reporter was duly introduced to the family, consisting of a wife, 
a granddauter, and a young woman teacher, who was distantly 
related to the missus. The incident was graphically related by the 
old physician, and Kumdon at once became a hero to the entire 
family. He found the young ladies very brilliant and highly edu¬ 
cated and good conversationalists. 

They all enjoyed a good dinner and then spent an hour very 
pleasantly together discussing a number of topics, but mostly the 



A STRANGE CASE. 


205 


subject of hypnotism and the subconscious mind and the weird 
stunts it often does. This was all new ground for Kumdon, and 
he at once got deeply interested in the subject. He himself pos¬ 
sessed the hypnotic power to a high degree, but did not know what 
it was nor how to employ it. It was just a natural gift with him, 
and it was that strange power that inclined him so strongly to the 
occult or mysterious. 

“Any time you can get an hour or so off, come out and I’ll 
be glad to unfold this wonderful subject to you,” exclaimed the 
old man, for it was his hobby and in line with his college work, and 
he had plenty of material in hi*s private practice, as well as in the 
clinics up at the college. 

Here was a virgin field for the reporter and right in line with 
his natural inclinations—and a -professor ready to conduct him thru 
its mysterious caverns and weird nooks and dells. 

“I thank you, Doctor,” said Kumdon; “and I shall avail my¬ 
self of your kind offer, for I am greatly interested in the subject 
and should like to learn all I can about it; besides, I think I can 
find plenty of material for a story or two for the Daily Bull;” and 
they all smiled pleasantly. 

‘‘Yes, I can dig up some real stuff for you if that is your idea, 
Mr. Spry,” said the Doctor. “If you will meet me at my office on 
West Ninth Street a week from to-day at 4 o’clock, I’ll bring you 
home for dinner, and after dinner we’ll retire to my den and I’ll 
relate a case that will make your hair curl.” 

’‘Good!” exclaimed Kumdon. “That is just what I want— 
something unusual for the Daily Bull —something that will outdo 
all the other papers and their most vivid writers;” and he chuckled 
inwardly at this piece of good luck. Then he bade his new friends 
good-bye and hurried to the office, and soon he had ready a half¬ 
column thriller with a realistic illustration. 

This little episode was a rich morsel for the other doctors and 
the rival college, and many of them considered it a clever adver¬ 
tising stunt on the part of Dr. Saunders. The Doctor was a man 
well up in the seventies and quite wealthy, and did not need any 
advertising. 

Kumdon had not only made a good impression on the Doctor, 
but with the entire family as well. 

When Kumdon returned home that night and related the epi¬ 
sode to Yulvern she looked a bit troubled and asked tentatively: 

“Are you real sure you did not like the Doctor’s granddauter 


20 6 


RED KLOVER. 


just a little—just a wee, tinsey little?” and her deep purple eyes 
had a trace of fear in their bottomless depths. 

“How silly!” replied Kumdon. “Why, of course I liked her 
in a way, but not in the way I like you, precious. You must never 
be jealous, Yulvern. You know we reporters have to meet all kinds 
of people, and it behooves us to be polite and courteous to every¬ 
one;” and he gave her a kiss that would knock a carload of fears 
galley-west at one blow. 

“What’s her first name, Kumdon?” asked Yulvern. 

“Well, my dear,” replied Kumdon, “it is sure a corker—almost 
as odd as your own. It is Velden Fern Saunders and she is really 
beautiful and a gifted musician. She has a voice of rare purity 
and wonderful sweetness and fluency; ” and he smiled at the troubled 
look that came in his sweetheart’s love-lit eyes. 

“Now I know you will like her,” said Yulvern, “for her name 
is so odd and pretty—even prettier than mine;” and she proceeded 
to pout—like her sex is wont to do. 

This was Yulvern’s first attack of jealousy and it was almost 
as bad as the flu in a tenement-house in the slums. Kumdon finally 
talked her out of it by the aid of an allopathic amount of kisses and 
assurances that she was the only possible pebble on life’s big ocean- 
kissed shore; but still that name Velden kept washing some sharp- 
edged pebbles against her heart, and little dark shadows of measly 
fear gripped her soul. 

“Dear, you remind me of little Johnny’s learned thesis on the 
subject of ‘Girls,’” said Kumdon. “He wrote in conclusion, ‘Girls 
is just funny birds that can sing, but can’t fly.’” 

Chapter V. 

DR. SAUNDERS’ STRANGE PATIENT. 

The week soon rolled around, and Kumdon was promptly on 
hand at Dr. Saunders’ office at the specified hour. 

“Ah! my young friend,” said the Doctor, “you’re prompt—a 
very commendable trait, I assure you.” 

“I thank you, Doctor, for the compliment,” replied Kumdon; 
“but the promise of such a rich and rare story is enuff to make 
anyone prompt.” 

“I have the data in the case all at hand now, as I have dug it 
all up from my old files and case-books,” continued the Doctor; 
“and I warn you to brace your nerves for the ordeal. After din¬ 
ner we will retire to my private den and get our pipes going well, 


A STRANGE CASE. 


207 


and then in the dreamy and narcotic fumes I’ll unfold a tale that 
has never been given out and is only known to myself and the rela¬ 
tives immediately concerned.” 

“All right, my good friend,” said Kumdon; “I think I can 
stand it, and you will find me an ideal audience.” 

They reached the Doctor’s dreamy old vine-clad place on a 
high bluff overlooking the historic Ohio River as it placidly me¬ 
anders along to keep its eternal tryst with the Gulf of Mexico. 
Velden and Miss Evangeline Parker, the teacher, were out on the 
porch, lolling in a pretty hammock—the handiwork of Velden’s own 
pretty white hands. 

“Good evening, Mr. Spry,” said Velden. “It is an unexpected 
pleasure to meet you so soon again,” and Velden held out her pretty 
hand to the young reporter and gave him such a hearty hand-clasp 
that he knew she really meant it. “Granddaddy did not tell us 
that you were coming to-night, but we are so glad you have come 
again. You know you promised to give us the pleasure of hearing 
you sing the next time you came;” and she smiled at him archly. 

“Did I really make such a rash promise?” asked Kumdon. 

“To be sure you did,” replied Velden. “Didn’t he, Evangel¬ 
ine?” she continued, turning to the teacher. 

“That is the way it sounded to me,” said Evangeline, and she 
gave him a look that indicated that excuses would not go. 

“I’m awfully sorry, ladies,” said Kumdon, “for I haven’t 
enuff money with me to pay my fine,” and he looked dreadfully 
scared. 

“Oh! and is that the trouble?” asked Velden. “Well, I’ll be 
generous and pay the fine myself, if I cannot buy the policeman 
on this beat off with a custard pie;” and they all had a good laff 
at this polite badinage. 

“My boy, I don’t see any way out of it for you,” said the Doc¬ 
tor; “and as dinner is not quite ready yet, I think a little music 
right now would be appetizing;” and the good Doctor gave Kumdon 
a sly wink. 

“Very well, then,” said Kumdon, “but I trust that you will 
remain right by that window and keep a sharp lookout.” 

“With pleasure, monsieur, and both eyes,” dryly remarked 
Miss Evangeline. 

Kumdon then seated himself at the old Chickering and sang 
a song he had written himself, and made a big hit with them all. 


2o8 


RED KLOVER. 


“And now I should be delighted to hear from you both,” said 
Kumdon. 

Velden went to the piano and sang an old plantation melody 
with singular sweetness and expression. 

“Splendid!” exclaimed the reporter. “I just knew from your 
eyes that you could out-warble the birds,” and he looked into her 
beautiful orbs of tawny and dreamy brown and almost forgot about 
the story he came for. 

Dinner was then announced by -the old family servant, and 
they all enjoyed themselves to the full and discussed almost every 
topic under the sun. Kumdon was surprised to find how well 
posted the girls were on every topic approached. 

Mrs. Saunders was a literary woman and her husband was the 
author of several large text-books on medical subjects, especially 
the brain and nervous ailments and mental phenomena. 

The old Doctor was perfectly at home on phrenology, psychol¬ 
ogy, theosophy, telepathy, hypnotism, mental therapy, and every 
Oriental cult of mysticism. Moreover, he was a pleasant and 
charming conversationalist, who knew how to use correct and pre¬ 
cise English. He was also versed in German, French, Spanish, 
Italian, Latin, and Greek—in short, a ripe scholar. His mind was 
as broad and liberal as the universe, and he was still a student. 

The Doctor’s charming granddauter was a chip off the old an¬ 
cestral block and just burgeoning into her twentieth year—a rare 
and radiant little flower, with a bright and vivacious manner that 
rendered her very charming and attractive. 

A full hour was spent at the dinner, for the Doctor believed i 
dining like a gentleman of the old school—and not jitney it dow 
like a business man or a railroader on duty. 

Kumdon had to sing again for the girls and then he and both 
girls sang a triet together. 

“Well, my boy, if you are ready, we will now proceed to my 
den on the next floor,” said the Doctor, “and I will draw aside the 
curtain on as strange a case as ever happened.” “And remember, 
Velden,” he continued, addressing his granddauter. “I am not to be 
disturbed under any circumstances.” 

“Very well, grampum,” said Velden; “but I think it just awful 
to take Mr. Spray away off up there to your den of horrors and 
monopolize him all evening.” 

“Tut, tut, my child!” replied the Doctor; “he will make a big 
hit with the story I have for him; besides, he now knows where 


A STRANGE CASE. 


209 


we live and he also knows how welcome he will always be here.” 

“I thank you, Doctor,” said Kumdon, “and I hope to always 
merit your good-will, and it will be a pleasure, I’m sure, to spend 
as much time out here as I can spare from my duties;” and he gave 
Velden a dreamy look that she wrapped her heart up in as she 
went out on the portico to dream and wait. 

THE DOCTOR’S VISITOR. 

“Yes, take that big rocker over there near the window and 
you will be entirely comfortable,” said the Doctor. 

“It was late in September one afternoon about 4 o’clock when 
I was disturbed by a timid but distinct knock on my laboratory 
door,” continued the Doctor. “Yes, I used to dabble a great deal 
in chemistry, and it is still a pleasing pastime. I opened the door, 
and was confronted by a very stylish but severely plain little woman 
of about thirty-eight years of age. 

“‘I beg pardon, but is this Dr. Saunders himself?’ she po¬ 
litely inquired in perfect English. 

“ ‘Yes, madam; you are addressing Dr. Saunders himself,’ I 
replied. ‘I never had a partner or assistant. Just come right over 
here to my private office—I never receive anyone in the laboratory. 
Here we are—just take that easy rocker there, and please remove 
your veil, as I always like to study the character of my patients 
thru their faces.’ 

“ ‘Really, Doctor,’ said my visitor, ‘I should prefer not to re¬ 
move my veil—for the present, at least; and I did not call on you 
for an analysis of my character, but to consult you about my three- 
natured husband,’ and her tone had a ring of finality about it. 

“ ‘Oh! very well,’ I said; ‘if you prefer not to reveal your face, 
I’ll waive that point, and we’ll get right down to business.’ 

“ ‘Thank you, Doctor/ replied my visitor. 

“ ‘Very well, madam; now for your story,’ I continued. 

“ ‘I am now Mrs. La Salle Verndon,’ said my visitor, ‘and my 
husband is a civil engineer and surveyor, and we have lived in Cin¬ 
cinnati about three years. The first two years after our marriage 
we lived in Louisville, Kentucky. My father is a prominent rail¬ 
road promoter and engineer; and he met Mr. Verndon in Nashville 
about six months before we were married. He was so taken with 
Mr. Verndon’s brilliancy and charming ways, he invited the young 
man to call on him if he were ever in Louisville. A few months 
later he was in Louisville on business and called on papa, as he had 


210 


RED KLOVER. 


promised to do. Father brought him out to our home and he re¬ 
mained for dinner. We were all charmed by his brilliant and charm¬ 
ing ways. I am a musician, and when he heard me sing and play 
he also gave us a surprise by doing some of the most wonderful 
stunts on the piano and in the vocal line. I felt ashamed of my 
poor efforts after his brilliant performance. Well, he seemed just 
as fond of us as we did of him, and was a frequent caller at our 
home. He paid ardent court to me, but in such a courteous and 
gentlemanly way that I gave consent to his proposal of marriage, 
and my parents both considered it a brilliant match. 

“ ‘We were united in marriage just four months after meeting, 
and in about a week we moved into a beautiful little cottage, and 
settled down to a very romantic and happy life. After about fif¬ 
teen months of perfect married life, we were further blessed by the 
advent of a fine little boy. 

“‘When our son was about four months old, Mr. Verndon 
was called to Nashville, he said, on some surveying business for 
the L. & N. Railroad. He thot he would return in about three 
weeks. “I’ll write every day if I can, little sweetheart,” he said 
as he kissed me good-bye. He only carried a hand-bag and a few 
changes of linen. He had no relatives in Nashville except a few 
distant cousins.’ 

“ ‘Excuse the interruption, madam,’ I said, ‘but where was 
the home town of your husband and his parents?’ 

“ ‘He said he was born in Newark, New Jersey,’ she replied, 
‘but that his parents had been dead since his early youth—in fact, 
he scarcely remembered them. 

“ ‘Well, after arriving in Nashville,’ continued my visitor, ‘he 
wrote me a short letter from the Maxwell House and that was the 
last I heard from him for fifteen months, when he returned one 
evening carrying a banjo, but no baggage whatever. 

“ ‘As soon as I saw who it was at the door, I sprang forward 
to meet him with all the pent-up affection I still bore him. He 
held me at arms’ length, smiled at me in a peculiar way, and asked 
who lived there. “Why, La Salle, don’t you know me—your wife?” 
I said, and I could not restrain the tears. He stood there looking 
at me incredulously, and stared at the house and furniture as tho 
he were in a strange place. Then the baby toddled in and clung 
to my skirts and looked at him in a scared way. When he saw it, 
his face grew clouded and wrinkled, and after looking at it a few 
seconds in a puzzled way, he broke into a loud and rather inco- 


A STRANGE CASE. 


211 


herent laugh and remarked with an incredulous chuckle: “Hum! 
Where did you get it?” Then he continued to stare at the baby, 
and little Rambert began to cry as he edged away from his father. 
“Why, La Salle,” I said, “don’t you know your own child—our 
little Rambert?” “I had an infant son about four months old 
when I went away two weeks ago,” he replied, “but this is a child 
about two years old and can talk.” Then he tried to pick the boy 
up in his arms, but the child iust screamed so terribly that he de¬ 
sisted and tried to coax it to come to him. “My dear husband,” I 
continued, “you’ve been gone a little more than fifteen months, 
and of course our boy has grown until you cannot recognize him. 
Why did you only write once in all this time? Where is your bag¬ 
gage, La Salle? Can you play the banjo?” Then he turned him¬ 
self loose, and the way he could play the instrument was indeed a 
surprise, for I did not know he played the instrument at all. “Why, 
of course I can play it. How could I make a living if I could not 
play it?” and he gave me a look of scorn. “Have you given up 
your other professions?” I asked. “I never had any other profes¬ 
sions that I know of,” he replied. “What are you talking about 
anyway?” and another look of scorn and pity was bestowed on 
me. “That’s some kid you have there—for a four-months-old,” 
and he again turned his attention to our child. I began to realize 
that he was not acting and with it came the awful realization that 
something in his mind had slipped and his mental machinery was 
not functioning normally. And oh, Doctor, what an awful fear 
gripped my heart! “I’m going to train the little rascal to be a 
minstrel,” said La Salle, “and then he can travel with me and help 
with my street concerts;” and he smiled happily. “Yes, that will 
be great,” I said, for I realized it would be best to humor him and 
not cross him in any way. “Now you’re talking, woman,” he said, 
and he came up to me and affectionately put his arm around me 
and gave me an old-time caress that strangely touched my soul— 
and, yes, I was happy again. “Perhaps,” thot I, “if I humor him and 
help him, his memory may return, and then everything will bea 11 
right again.” “Aren’t you hungry, dear?” I asked, for I noticed 
that he looked around as tho in search of food and drink. “Oh, 
no!” smiled he. “I played in a saloon down on the levee after I 
got off the boat this morning, and the boys just filled me up with 
drinks and all the eats I could hold, and then they took up a hat 
collection for me and it netted a little over six dollars.” Then he 
looked very proud of his performance. I did not let him see my 


212 


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chagrin. ‘On the way up from New Orleans I played on the boat 
to entertair the passengers, and the captain said I was his guest 
and he woi Id not accept a cent for fare nor board, and the passen¬ 
gers tipped me liberally, so I made several hundred on the trip;” 
and he looked profoundly satisfied. “I promised them down at 
the saloon, The Sea Shell, that I would come and play and sing 
for them this evening again,” continued La Salle. “The boss prom¬ 
ised me five dollars and the collection will amount to about fifteen 
dollars. Why should we worry?” and he smiled at himself com- 
plaisantly again. Then he played and sang some more and in this 
way won over Rambert, for the child is inordinately fond of music. 
This seemed to make him very happy, and he laid aside his banjo 
and proceeded to play with the child as tho he were a five-year-old 
himself. He seemed quite rational now, but his amnesia continued, 
and he had no recollection of ever being anything but a strolling 
musician.’ 

“ ‘But he seemed to recognize you as his wife after a few min¬ 
utes with you, did he not?’ I asked the visitor. 

“ ‘Yes,’ she replied; ‘but he was not entirely satisfied with me, 
and the size of Rambert still puzzled him. 

“ ‘Then you have no way of knowing just how long he has 
had the idea of being a troubadour?’ I asked her kindly. 

“ ‘None whatever, Doctor,’ she replied. ‘He went down to 
The Sea Shell that evening and played and sang there till nearly 
ii o’clock p. m., when he came home and complained of being very 
tired and sleepy; 1 got him to take a cold bath and then we re¬ 
tired, and he fell into a sound sleep in a very few minutes. I could 
not sleep at all, I was so worried and nervous After he was sleep¬ 
ing like a log, I got up and made a thoro search of his pockets, 
in hope of finding something or other that might throw some light 
on the case. He had a little more than thirty thousand dollars 
carefully sewed up in his clothing and about six hundred dollars 
lioose in his pockets. Among the roll of big bills sewed up in the 
lning of his vest was the faded photo of a very beautiful girl, who 
appeared to be about nineteen years of age, and also this note: 

“‘“Baton Rouge, La., May 17, 18—. 

lii “Dea) Ralph ,—I am so lonely since you went away. Please 
hurry back to us, won’t you, dear? Luvele is so-restless and nerv¬ 
ous since her daddy went away. We both love you and await your 


A STRANGE CASE. 


213 


return. Please write often, and do be careful with yourself and not 
get hurt. If you can’t find them, throw up the job and come home. 

Faithfully your own, Velcie.” 

“ ‘Some more mystery,’ I commented. 

‘Yes; but it seems almost certain from this note that he has 
another wife and has probably left her and forgotten that he is her 
husband and that his name is Ralph,’ said Mrs. Verndon, with a 
look of fear settling in her beautiful dusky eyes. 

“ ‘No doubt about her being another wife and the child is evi¬ 
dently their dauter. It is a very rare case, madam, and is known as 
memraljj I said. 

“ ‘MemraljJ she mused. ‘That’s a new one on me, Doctor.’ 

“ ‘Yes, madam, it is a new one on all of us,’ I said, ‘for our 
medical records do not contain a case just like it.’ 

“ ‘But that is not all, Doctor,’ she continued. 

“ ‘For heavens’ sake! is there more of it?’ I asked. 

“‘Oh, yes! We are just getting fairly started, Doctor,’ she 
continued. 

“ ‘Proceed, madam, proceed!’ I exclaimed.” 

The Doctor was still a student in spite of his years, and ever 
ready to learn more. 

“ ‘Well, the next morning he seemed more like himself,’ con¬ 
tinued my visitor; ‘and when he saw his banjo on the piano where 
he laid it the previous evening when he came home, he picked it 
up and looked at it in a puzzled way and asked me whose it was. 
“ Why, dear, it’s yours,” I replied, and slipped my arm thru his. 
“Won’t you please play for me while I’m getting breakfast? You 
know I’m so fond of the banjo,” I coaxed. “Mine!” he exclaimed 
in bewilderment. “Why, I never owned a banjo in my life and 
don’t know a thing about playing it.” “Then won’t you play on 
the piano and sing for me, La Salle?” I asked. “Oh, yes! I’ll do 
that,” he said. Then, to my utter astonishment, he seated him¬ 
self at the piano and began to play the banjo pieces he had played 
the night before, and if one had not known he was performing on 
the piano, he would have thot he was playing the banjo, so won¬ 
derful was his imitation of the banjo. I asked him again to play 
some of the old songs he used to play for me, but he couldn’t re¬ 
member any of them. When I placed one of them before him, he 
looked at it awhile and then played it with a great deal of feeling, 
but declared he could not sing. This puzzled me greatly, for he 
has a wonderful voice, and only the previous evening he played 


214 


RED KLOVER. 


and sang with the banjo. Then I went to the kitchen to prepare 
breakfast, and he soon stopped playing and wandered out in the 
yard. Everything seemed strange to him. Our next-door nabor 
came out after his morning paper and when he saw La Salle was 
home he greeted him cordially, but La Salle only stared stupidly 
at him and turned and came in and asked me who lived over there. 
I was so mortified, for the Faulkners are particular friends of ours 
and are so fond of La Salle. What to tell them and how to explain 
his condition was a ticklish job I assure you.’ 

“‘I appreciate the delicacy of your position, madam,’ I said, 
‘and sympathize with you deeply.’ 

“ ‘Oh, thank you, Doctor!’ she exclaimed. ‘I surely need all 
the help and sympathy I can find.’ 

“Mrs. Verndon continued: ‘ “Why did you act that way with 
Mr. Faulkner?” I asked. “I don’t know the boob, and he acted rather 
fresh, I thot,” he explained in an offended way. Then I went back 
to my task of preparing breakfast. Presently I missed him, and 
thot he had gone out doors again. I soon heard little Rambert 
laffing and cooing, and La Salle had the child in his arms and 
was trying to dress him. “I’m going to take the little rascal with 
me when I go down to The Sea Shell to-night, and the boys will 
give him some beer,” he said. I was frightened now, for I realized 
that he would do just whatever struck his fancy. I did not dare 
to go out and leave him alone with the child, so I slipped out and 
asked Mr. Faulkner to hurry and bring my father over to our home. 
Then we ate our breakfast, and he seemed to come back to himself; 
but the banjo still troubled him. “Aren’t you going down to The 
Sea Shell and play it to-day?” I asked. “ ‘The Sea Shell’? 
What the devil is that?” and he looked at me in utter bewilder¬ 
ment. “That’s the saloon where you played the banjo last night,” 
I explained. He shook his head, and said I was trying to play a 
joke on him. 

“ ‘Soon after breakfast father and Mr. Faulkner came in, and 
La Salle greeted them warmly and had no recollection of just snub¬ 
bing Mr. Faulkner. They had a long chat, and La Salle seemed 
entirely rational. I was so pleased, and believed that his mind was 
returning to its normal state. 

“ ‘After father left, I asked La Salle how much he made on 
his trip to Tennessee. “Very little above expenses and what I 
sent home to you,” he replied. He had not sent any money to 
me. “How much money have you on hand now?” I asked, to see 


A STRANGE CASE. 


215 


if he remembered the large amount I found sewed up in his clothes. 
He felt thru his pockets and found the six hundred dollars I had 
put back there, but he seemed surprised to find it and could not 
account for it being there. He had no recollection of the other 
money. 

“ * Everything went along nicely for about five months, and 
La Salle returned to engineering and surveying and was doing well, 
when one Saturday I was to meet him at his office at I o’clock, and 
we were to attend a matinee. I was on hand promptly, but La 
Salle was not there. His office was open, and I went in and sat 
down, thinking he had just stepped across the hall to some of the 
other offices. I waited an hour and then became uneasy, and be¬ 
gan to make inquiries among the few other offices that were still 
occupied. Dr. Rankin had met him going down about n o’clock 
a. m., and that was all I could learn about him. I waited another 
hour and then left a note saying I had gone home and for him to 
hurry home. I waited all that evening, and then I gave up. I 
knew he’d had another fit of amnesia, and had wandered off to some 
of his other selves—perhaps had gone back to his Baton Rouge 
wife and dauter. I had a strange desire to see them; and after 
discussing the case fully with my parents, father and I decided to. 
go to the Louisiana town and investigate. 

“ ‘We took the first packet down the river, and in about three 
weeks we were in the quaint old French-American town of Baton 
Rouge. It is a city of trees and vines and dreamy ease. No one 
there is ever in a hurry. It is an ideal place to dream and love—- 
and die. We went to the principal hotel, and after a day’s rest we 
began a quiet search for anyone of La Salle’s description with the 
name Ralph and whose wife’s name was Velcie and whose dauter’s 
name was Luvele—rather a meagre clue, but it was all we had and 
we intended to make the most of it. 

“ c “It seems to me, dauter,” said father, “that as La Salle’s 
tastes are all toward the learned professions, we had better get a 
directory and commence with the professionals first.” This seemed 
a good plan, and we soon ran thru the lawyers and engineers and 
surveyors, but not one of them was named Ralph. Then we turned 
to the physicians, and after quite a search we found an obsolete 
doctor whose name was “Ralph Edgerton Holmes, 268 Magnolia 
Street.” After considerable time and many inquiries, we found 
that Magnolia was a short street away down in the southeast cor¬ 
ner of the town. We finally got a conveyance, and after nearly an 


2 l6 


RED KLOVER. 


hour we found the place and it was a neat little vine-clad cottage 
of four rooms. The yard and whole place was a wilderness of flow¬ 
ers.' A young and very pretty woman about twenty years of age 
was reading on the veranda, and a rare and lovely little girl about 
thirteen months old was playing with a doll and a kitten near by. 
The door-plate bore a neat sign, “Dr. Ralph E. Holmes.” “Beg 
pardon,” hailed father “but is the doctor at home?” “N-o, he is 
out of the city,” lazily returned the woman in a hesitating manner, 
as tho she did not know just what to say. “When do you ex¬ 
pect him back?” I chipped in before father could ask another ques¬ 
tion. “Do you want to see him on professional business?” she 
countered. “Yes, and also on other business,” father answered, 
with a kind and sympathetic look at her. “He’s gone to Balti¬ 
more to take a post-graduate course and expects to be gone several 
months,” she replied, and she looked from father to me with a look 
of fear on her sweet and innocent face. I was strangely attracted 
to her. 

“ ‘The child held out its tiny hands toward father and cooed 
to be taken up. He picked up the pretty mite and began to coo 
to her and play with her. She was delighted and put her little 
hands around his neck and squeezed and loved him. This touched 
both of us deeply; and we knew from the child’s looks that it was 
La Salle’s—there could be no mistake about it. 

“ ‘How to go about our mission without wounding the poor 
and faithful little soul was a problem. “I’m a relative of your hus¬ 
band’s, madam, and I did not know till to-day that he was married 
and had a family,” easily explained father. “Ralph was a little 
wild at college, and inclined to romances that he never shared with 
any of us, and I suppose this is one of them.” “Oh, I’m so glad! 
then, if you are relatives, I can talk to you about him and perhaps 
you can help me to find him,” she said, and she gave us both an 
appealing look. “Is Ralph really lost?” asked father. “I’m afraid 
so, sir, for he’s been gone now about nine months and I have only 
heard from him once, and that was from Memphis at the Gayos'o 
House. He went down town as usual one morning and that was 
the last I heard of him till he wrote me a brief note from Memphis 
saying he was going to Baltimore to take a special course in brain 
and nervous diseases. He complained of feeling bad, and said he 
had pains in his back and queer feelings in his head, but attributed 
it to the bad water and excessive heat in Memphis. I wrote him 
immediately and begged him to come home and give up his plans 


A STRANGE CASE. 


21 7 

till the weather was cooler. I never heard from him again, and did 
not know what to do. I hated to take strangers into my confidence, 
and thot it best to just wait till he came back.” “Has your mar¬ 
ried life been happy?” I ventured. “Oh, yes, very I” she replied. 
“We love each other very dearly, and never had the remotest bit 
of trouble. He seemed so fond of me and baby, and never went 
to town without taking us with him. We selected this out-of-the- 
way place in order to have quiet and where we can be entirely 
alone.” “Were you living here when Ralph found you?” asked 
father. “Oh, no! I’m from New Orleans, and he said he was 
from Baltimore. He had recently graduated from Johns Hopkins, 
he said; but he did not seem to care much for practice, and often 
pleaded another engagement when he did not want to go. He was 
very successful, and could have had a big practice if he had cared 
for it. He seemed to have plenty of money, and said he believed 
in living while it lasted.” 

“ 4 44 Does he play the piano much since he married you?” I 
ventured, for lack of something better to say. 44 The piano?” she 
asked. 44 Why, I never knew he could play it. I play it and also 
sing. He can certainly play the violin and the guitar, and sings 
well. Music is our principal diversion. Are you sure he can play 
the piano?” 44 Yes, I am sure,” I said; 44 but I did not know that 
he played the violin and guitar.” 

44 4 44 Have you a good picture of Ralph?” asked father. 44 To 
be sure I have,” she said. “Luvele here is one, and here is the 
photo of him that we had taken together shortly after we were mar¬ 
ried.” There could be no mistake in regard to his identity. 

4 4 4 44 Have you ever seen any of his relatives or heard him 
speak of them?” continued father “N-o, I have never seen any 
of them,” she said; 44 but he said his mother and two sisters lived 
in Baltimore and that he was going to take me to visit them when 
Luvele got about three years old. He never cared to talk about 
his past and I never bothered about it when I saw he did not care 
to discuss it with me. We were so happy I did not care for any¬ 
thing except the present and our own affairs.” 

44 4 44 When were you and he married?” I asked. 44 Fifteen 
months ago, but' it seems like many years ago,’ ’ she replied. 

44 4 44 May I inquire if you are one of his sisters?” she asked 
me point blank. Father shot me a look of inquiry, but I thot it 
best to have it over with as soon as possible. I realized the blow 
would almost kill her, but it had to fall. 44 No, I am his zv-i-f-e,” I 


218 


RED KLOVER. 


replied, and I felt like an assassin. “I don’t believe you!” she cried, 
and rose and staggered toward me. I held out my arms and she 
swooned into them and was soon unconscious. After about two 
hours we aroused her, and then I told her my story. She listened 
like one entranced, and a hopeless look was in her pretty lavender 
eyes. When I had finished, she buried her face in her hands and 
just moaned and sobbed as tho her soul were in awful travail. 

“ 1 “Oh, my poor husband! My dear Ralph! What is to be¬ 
come of me and Luvele?” and she wrung her hands and moaned 
piteously. “There, there, dear; cheer up,” I said. “We are all 
in the same boat and must drift along together, and try to find 
the poor soul and see if we can have his strange malady treated,” 
I said in as calm a voice as I could muster—in fact, I was merely 
whistling to keep up my own flagging courage and to keep back 
my pressing tears. 

“ ‘ “Yes, my dear child, we must all pull together and try to 
comfort one another,” said papa soothingly, and he gently put his 
arm around her shoulders and affectionately drew her to him. 

“ ‘ “Oh! I’m so glad you don’t hate me, and it is so good of 
you all to help me in my sad hour of need,” sobbed the distressed 
creature on papa’s breast. “Why, of course, we don’t blame you, 
dear,” I said, “for you had no way of knowing that he was not all 
right, any more than we had of knowing that he was a victim of 
this strange amnesia or memralj .” “ Memralj /” exclaimed Mrs. 

Holmes, and a strange light gleamed in her tear-dimmed eyes. 
“Why, I heard Ralph discussing that mental disorder with Dr. 
Williams shortly after we were married, when Dr. Williams asked 
Ralph to consult with him about a strange mental case that was 
puzzling the physicians here. I heard him tell Dr. Williams that 
he was going back to Baltimore soon and take a special post-gradu¬ 
ate course in mental and nervous ailments, and expected to gain 
some new light on that malady—whatever it was.” “It is a mental 
disorder that the medical profession knows little or nothing about,” 
explained papa. “The victim of it has a number of identities or 
selves, and when he passes from one identity he loses all recollection 
of his other identities, it seems. The best authorities regard it as 
due to some abnormal pre-natal influence that the mother im¬ 
presses on her offspring,” explained father as he led Mrs. Holmes 
to a seat near me, and again took up Luvele and began to toss her 
up in the air and play with her. 

“ ‘Velcie (Mrs. Holmes’ name ) came over and put her arms 


A STRANGE CASE . 


219 


around me and just seemed inconsolable. I returned her caresses, 
and we both cried a duet together, and then w'e pledged our friend¬ 
ship and co-operation. We agreed to share our sorrow with each 
other and work together in finding our husband. We did not think 
just then what we would do if we did find him. Our only thot 
was to find him and help him. It is strange, there was no jealousy 
on either side. We were sisters in trouble—the wives of a strange 
man who had forgotten both of us and his identity as our respect¬ 
ive husbands, and had probably gone on to yet another identity. 
“Oh, heavens! Is it possible that he may have yet other identi¬ 
ties?” moaned Velcie in despair. “Well, so far as the great alien¬ 
ists have any data, there has never been known a case that had 
more than two identities or double souls volunteered father. “If 
two identities are possible, I see no reason why a greater number 
may not occur,” coldly remarked Velcie, with a dreamy, far-away 
look of utter despair in her beautiful eyes. “True,” said I, “but 
let us hope that he only has two souls.” ’ 

Chapter VI. 

THE WEIRD SEARCH FOR A DOUBLE SOUL. 

“ ‘As they were all tired out and needed rest and time to think/ 
continued my visitor, ‘Mr. Vangive {my father) told Velcie to bear 
up as best she could and go to bed early and get a good sleep and 
rest, and that we would come out again the next day and decide 
on some plan of procedure. To this she readily agreed, and urged 
us to come early, as she would be so lonely and anxious to do some¬ 
thing for Ralph. Father.and I both took her in our arms and as¬ 
sured her that she should not bear it all alone,' and this greatly 
relieved her and she bade us good evening, and Luvele cooed to 
go with us. Father and I both had been captured by the child 
from the start, and I felt a strange liking for Velcie, instead of a 
feeling of jealousy, as most women would have felt. 

“‘As soon as we were alone, papa exclaimed: “Isn’t she a 
fine little woman? We’ll take her home with us if she will go; and 
I’d just give anything to have her little girl and raise her,” and 
he sighed deeply. “Yes, papa,” I said, “we must persuade her to go 
with us and she shall be my sister, and we can raise little Luvele along 
with Rambert—and what pals those kids would be!” I exclaimed as 
a spirit of prophecy came over me. 

“ ‘That evening papa and I talked it over from every possible 
angle, and decided that we must bend all our efforts to finding La 


220 


RED KLOVER. 


Salle and seeing if medical aid could do aught for him. If the doc¬ 
tors could do nothing for him, we must confine him in a sanitarium, 
where we could look after him and see that he received proper care. 
“But suppose, dauter,” said papa, “that when we find him he is 
living under a third identity and has another wife and perhaps 
children by her?” “Well, that would be a stunner, papa,” I re¬ 
plied; “but we won’t cross that Bridge of Sighs till we come to it.” 
“But suppose that when we find him he is Dr. Holmes again, and 
wants Velcie and Luvele and fails to recognize you and Rambert?” 
persisted father. “Well, in that case,” I answered, “the only thing 
to do is to let him have them, and as long as he is Dr. Holmes I will 
stand quietly aside, and if he ever changes back to La Salle Vern- 
don and recognizes me and Rambert, he will be mine as long as 
that identity lasts,” said I, with a sense of humor for the first time. 
“Brave little woman! My own little Loree!” father exclaimed. 
“That would be'a just and sensible way to act, and I think that 
Velcie will be equally fair and sensible; if she is, that will greatly 
facilitate matters —if we find him; but it is best to catch your bird 
before you discuss the best way to cook it;” and papa laffed in 
his old way. 

“ ‘We both arose early the next morning, and after partaking 
of a light breakfast and some extra strong coffee, we set out for the 
Holmes bungalow, and found Velcie and Luvele out on the veranda, 
looking for-us. She was dressed in a very becoming and simple 
morning dress of soft gray, trimmed with a touch of a soft and 
whispering shade of red that was very becoming to her dark and 
dusky beauty. Little Luvele was all dolled up in white and looked 
like a real little fairy. 

“‘“Good morning, dauter,” exclaimed papa. “Good morn¬ 
ing, sister,” I exclaimed at the same time. “Good morning, father 
and sister, my good friends and now kinfolks,” said Velcie. We 
caressed her affectionately; and as soon as Luvele saw us she ran 
to papa and held up her pretty baby hands and smiled and cooed 
to be taken up and tossed in the air again, as he had done the day 
before. Papa needed no urging, and soon had the child in his arms 
and was loving the little elf and playing with her. 

“ ‘While papa played with Luvele, I told Velcie that we had 
considered the case from every angle, and had decided on our course 
of action, if she liked the plan. She agreed, and was delighted to 
go with us and help find him; she also agreed that if he ever went 
back to his identity as Dr. Holmes, she would receive him as her 


A STRANGE CASE. 


221 


husband and stick to him as long as that identity lasted, and if he 
changed to his identity as La Salle Verndon, he was to be mine as 
long as it lasted. “But suppose,” she reflected “that when we 
find him he is living another identity and has a wife and child under 
that identity—then what?” and a great fear seemed to grip her 
very soul with icy fingers. “I suggested the same thing to papa, 
but he thot it useless to cross a bridge that we may never come to,’ I 
explained as hopefully as I could. “Well, I suppose, in the event 
that he has a third wife, we shall have to let her have him as 
long as he is under that identity, and then if he comes back to 
either of us, we’ll have him;” and Velcie actually smiled as the 
grim humor of the situation dawned on her. “I confess that I see 
no other way,” I hastened to agree with her. Papa also took the 
same view, so that phase of the problem Was settled.’ 

ABOARD THE WHIPPOORWILL. 

“ ‘After we had spent the most of the forenoon discussing the 
case, we all discovered that mortals have to eat, even if they do 
have magnus troubles; so Velcie and I fell to and prepared an appe¬ 
tizing little dinner, while papa acted as nurse and playmate for 
Luvele; and the way the little elf did laugh and scream with de¬ 
light touched all our hearts and caused a feeling of kinship to per¬ 
vade our souls. “It would break papa’s heart to give up your lit¬ 
tle girl,” I remarked as we both looked out of the window and 
saw them playing like two kittens with a ball of colored yarn. “Oh! 
I’m so glad you all like her and—” exclaimed Velcie. “Yes, and 
ycm,” I hastened to assure her as I took her in my arms and gave 
her a squeeze that needed no postscript. 

“ ‘We soon had an excellent dinner ready, and I soon discov¬ 
ered that my new sister was no mean cook, and as a hostess she was 
superb and adorable. Her manner was refined and cultured, with 
a quiet and kindly dignity gracing every movement and gesture; 
besides, she was a finished musician and had a wonderful voice and 
many other accomplishments—in fact, we were charmed with her 
and delighted that she was going North with us. She had never 
been out of the Southland, and had a most delightful Southern 
brogue that was both pleasing and fascinating. She was French, 
Italian, and Scotch, and inherited the best traits of all three races, 
and added a peculiar charm all her own—an original something 
in the way of a personality that one never meets but once. Her 
maiden name was Miss Velcie Langwild, and she was a graduate in 


222 


RED KLOVER. 


music and art, and had a nack of being versatile and adaptable to 
a high degree. Her father was Captain Ferdinand Langwild, an 
old river captain, and he had won distinguished honors in the Civil 
War as a military leader and strategist. Velcie came from the best 
of stock, and, like all thorobreds, showed her breeding in every 
movement. 

“ 4 Velcie arranged with a near-by nabor to look after her chick¬ 
ens, garden, and house while she was away, and merely told her 
nabors that she was called away for awhile on account of an acci¬ 
dent that had befallen her husband. Her guests, she explained, 
were his relatives. She was too proud to let the truth leak out. 

44 4 She soon arranged her affairs, and drew two thousand dol¬ 
lars out of the bank for current expenses. Papa objected to this, 
for he had large means and a big income that was increasing every 
year, and he insisted that she was our guest and protegee, now and 
that he would meet ail the expenses; but her old family pride would 
not hear to such an arrangement at all, so we had to let her have 
her way to this extent; in all other respects she submitted to our 
plans and suggestions like a child. 

44 4 The arrangements were soon completed, and we learned at 
the hotel that the Whippoorwill , one of the niftiest little boats 
that plied the lower river, was scheduled to go up to St. Louis that 
evening about 7 o’clock. The three of us took supper at the hostelry 
and had just finished when we heard the whistle of our boat. We 
were among the first to walk her gangplank, and had booked passage 
to Memphis, where we decided to make our first stand, and see if we 
could pick up a clue in that sun-baked city of dirt and indolence. 
As Ralph had written to his wife from the Gayoso, we thot it pos¬ 
sible that we might pick up some clues at the hotel or about town. 
It was about 10 o’clock at night when we reached Memphis, and we 
were carried directly to the hotel, and waited until the next morn¬ 
ing before making any inquiries. 

4 4 4 Papa adroitly pumped the clerk and porters and bell-hops 
and described La Salle to them, but they could not recall such a 
person; and the same in our search about town—no one remem¬ 
bered him. He had probably only passed thru Memphis and at 
once departed. 

44 4 The Water Queen would be the next up-river boat and would 
pass Memphis about 4 o’clock that afternoon. A good bill was 
running at the principal theater, and we decided to pass the time 
and enjoy the play while we were waiting for the boat. A stock 


A STRANGE CASE . 


223 


company was the attraction, and the play was a vivid melodrama, 
in which a husband left his wife for an affinity and then returned 
to steal his child from its mother. 

“ ‘ “Sister Loree,” said Velcie, “I do believe that little blonde 
actress is staring at Luvele.” “It is strange, but I was just going 
to call your attention to the same thing,” I replied; “but Luvele 
is such a remarkable child she attracts unusual attention every¬ 
where.” “But I have a feeling that there is something more than 
curiosity about a beautiful child in her continual staring at Luvele 
and watching all of us,” replied Velcie, and she seemed strangely 
agitated and excited, and her eyes seemed to take on another color, 
and her manner was decidedly uncanny. “Never mind, dear,” I 
soothed; “it may only be a fancy on our part after all. Stage peo¬ 
ple have to look at their audience, and she may have chanced to 
look at us in particular instead of at the audience in general.” 

“‘Just then an usher came to our box and said that Mile. Le 
Grande desired to have a talk with us and for us to bring the child 
with us and to come direct to her dressing-room. “What shall we 
do, papa?” gasped I in a voice of nervous trepidation. “Why, go 
and see what the lady has on her mind, by all means,” urged papa. 
“Just follow me, ladies,” said the usher, “and I’ll show you to 
Mile. Le Grande’s dressing-room.” We followed the usher and 
were soon shown into the dressing-room and courteously and kindly 
received by the young actress. ' 

“ ‘ “Excuse my presumption, ladies,” said Mile. Le Grande, 
“but I just had to see you on account of the little one here,” and 
she indicated Luvele and took the child in her arms before we could 
offer a protest. “Bless its little heart!” she went on in raptures 
over the child, “but it is just the living image of Jack, so I knew it 
must be his child, and I just had to find out and learn who you all 
are and where you are from,” ran on the girl, as tho. she were 
addressing the walls of the room instead of us. “Who is Jack?” 
asked Velcie in her quiet and dignified way, but I could see that 
her nerves were ready to snap with the mental strain. “Oh, yes!’ 
replied Mile. Le Grande; “he’s the leading man in the Southern 
Stock Company that is now playing in St. Louis and a very clever 
actor and something of a genius at music. He just seems naturally 
to know all instruments, and has a voice that simply hypnotizes 
his auditors. I was a member of the same company for two years 
and played with Jack Curtis for a little more than four months, 
when I came here to take the place of a girl who recently died. The 


224 


RED KLOVER. 


same people own this company and the one in the Mound City. 
We sometimes thot Jack a little queer, but just attributed it to 
genius and let it go at that. But his little girl, Ulda , is the living 
image of him, and when I saw this beautiful little mite—a replica 
of Jack Curtis—I sure did stare, for I never saw two humans so 
exactly alike, only Ulda is about seven years old.” Then she paused 
for breath, and Velcie asked: “Doesn’t Ulda resemble her mothei 
any?” I saw her drift, and kept discreetly quiet. “Not in the 
least,” replied Mile. Le Grande. “His poor wife worshiped him, 
and they were very devoted to one another, and when she died he 
was inconsolable and seemed to be gradually changing into another 
man. The first we noticed was the fact that he would not touch 
any of the instruments he used to play so divinely. He moped 
around for three days, and simply walked and blundered thru his 
parts, and then he suddenly disappeared. We feared he had killed 
himself in a fit of despondency over the loss of Zurane , his beauti¬ 
ful and talented wife. Her stage name was Zurane Lambert, and 
she was born in Berne, Switzerland. The case was put in the hands 
of the police, and the company employed detectives and adver¬ 
tised in the metropolitan and theatrical papers, but we could neve:r 
find any trace of him. About six months ago he came to the stage 
door of the theater and strolled in and began to look around among 
the dressing-rooms; I happened to meet him, and he at once rec¬ 
ognized me and inquired about the other members of the cast. I 
told him we had all new people except three of the old ones, but 
our manager, Mr. Joe Lively, was still at the helm. The strange 
part of it was the fact that he recognized all of us except Joe and he 
and Joe used to be real pals and cronies. Joe tapped his forehead 
significantly, and we said no more about it. Another strange change 
had come over him—he now would only play the harp and man¬ 
dolin—declaring he never played any other instruments. When 
playing the harp he would sometimes sing, and at other times he 
would whistle, but he was so expert at whatever he did in the music 
line we were glad to let him do just whatever pleased him. We 
all felt that his mind was a little affected, but his acting was just 
as before—only better and more weird and uncanny. Everything 
he did made a big hit; and when he gave musical selections be¬ 
tween acts he would be encored and called back until the manage¬ 
ment would not let him respond any more for fear he might have a 
nervous breakdown.” 

“ ‘“What became of Ulda when he disappeared and did not re- 


A STRANGE CASE . 


225 


turn for several years?” I asked. “Oh! the whole company just 
kind of adopted the sweet little thing, for we were all crazy about 
her, and she was a genius and a mascot and a decided hit. She 
lived around with the ladies of the company,” continued Mile. Le 
Grande, “and was welcome everywhere, and she soon got to play¬ 
ing child parts, and developed such remarkable talent we were all 
mighty proud of her. Many wealthy people came to us and begged 
to be allowed to adopt the child, but we wouldn’t part with her for 
all the world; and Uida seemed to be born for the histrionic art 
and the nomadic life, so she just grew into our hearts and became 
the soul of the company. We all chipped in and employed a pri¬ 
vate teacher who came and gave her lessons every day except Sat¬ 
urdays and Sundays. The little elf just learned intuitively so fast 
her teacher could not keep up with her. When Jack came back 
to us the child remembered him and was simply delighted, but he 
seemed greatly puzzled about her size and the changes that time 
had wrought in her.” I gave Velcie a knowing look and she under¬ 
stood—that was just the way he acted about Rambert when he 
came back to us. 

“ ‘ ‘‘May I inquire if you are relatives of Jack’s?” asked Mile. 
Le Grande. “Yes; I’m his sister-in-law,” said Velcie, “and this is 
his half-sister,” indicating me. “ I married his twin brother; and we 
are all so fond of Jack I suppose I unconsciously marked my child.” 
“Oh, how nice it will be! and I just know he will be delighted to 
see you all,’ ’said Mile. Le Grande. “It is strange, tho, that he never 
talked about his relatives.” “He’s been to see us while he was 
away from you all, but he never breathed a word about being mar¬ 
ried and having a living dauter,” continued Velcie in an easy and 
indifferent way. 

“ ‘ “Are you all on your way to St. Louis to see Jack?” asked* 
Mile. Le Grande. “N-o; we are just returning to Louisville from 
the Mardi-Gras at New Orleans, and we wrote to Jack to come and 
spend his vacation with us when the theaters close for the summer,” 
went on my talented and diplomatic sister, as tho she were a born 
diplomat at the Court of Ananias. I was really proud of her; and 
papa agreed it was a wise precaution to not let Mile. Le Grande 
know of our real plans. We feared that she might wire him that 
we were coming, and we had no way of knowing what effect such 
news might have on him. 

The announcer or caller was summoning the actors to their parts 
and our hostess had to respond to her cue, so we hurriedly bade her 


226 


RED KLOVER. 


good-bye, and went back to our seats. We consulted our watches 
and saw that we could not stay to the end of the performance or 
we might miss our boat. We quietly left at the close of the second 
act and went to the hotel, paid our score, and repaired directly to 
the wharf. 

“ ‘We had only about ten minutes to wait when the majestic 
and gaily bedecked Water Queen poked her prow toward the wharf 
and soon was discharging her passengers and cargo. In about fif¬ 
teen minutes she showed Memphis a clean pair of heels and was 
dreaming and chugging her way up the great river of America. 

“ ‘We booked passage thru to St. Louis, for we had unexpect¬ 
edly found our game, and a great feeling of relief came over us all; 
and we soon acquainted papa with our interview with the actress. 

“ ‘ “Wasn’t it a lucky thing we all decided to attend that the¬ 
ater?” mused papa, more to himself than to us. “But, my chil¬ 
dren, what will we do when we get to St. Louis and confront him if 
he has no recollection of us or that part of his past connected with 
ns?” And we all three sighed sadly and knew not what to suggest. 
“It would sure break my heart to look into his dear eyes and have 
them regard me as a stranger,” sighed Velcie, and her eyes took 
on a wild and uncanny gleam. “Tut, tut, dear! you must not be 
so sentimental in a case like this, but must bear it philosophically 
and stoically, like a physician does when it is necessary for him to 
operate on a member of his family. All feelings of sentiment would 
be out of place and might do harm,” continued father in a kindly 
way to Velcie. “I suppose you are right, Father Vangive,” said 
Velcie; “but it will be an awful strain on my mind and nerves to 
meet him face to face and have him just stare at me like a stranger. 
However, I’ll be as brave as I can and do all I can to help him in 
his sad affliction.” “That’s the way to talk, my brave little girl,” 
said father. “We’ll all do the best we can, and it all depends on 
what particular identity is controlling his mind when we meet him. 
But as he has returned to them and Ulda, and seems content there 
with them, and believes himself an actor, I don’t see what we can 
do. We might have him adjudged insane and locked up in an asy¬ 
lum, but what good would that do him or us? And such a course 
would deprive Ulda of his love and care and would only disgrace 
all of us.” “But, papa, could we prove that he is insane?” I asked. 
“He seems perfectly rational in each identity, and merely a loss of 
memory of certain events in his past would hardly constitute in¬ 
sanity, it seems to me.” “And of course the great alienists would 


A STRANGE CASE. 


227 


split up over the case and absolutely disagree on whether certain 
phases of amnesia constituted insanity ” declared Velcie positively. 
“Besides, I would rather see him dead or lose him entirely than to 
have such a disgrace as having sent him to an asylum. To me it is 
unthinkable!” and the poor loyal little soul shuddered as tho she 
were being plunged in a deep well of ice water. “And I agree with 
you, Sister v'el cie,” I said. “I, too, should prefer to give him up 
forever ratherthan have him disgraced by placing him in an asy¬ 
lum. The sain would ever cling to our children and it is our duty 
to spare thetm such a fate.” Velcie then threw her arms around 
me and we cried down each other’s backs and sobbed in silence for 
awhile, and when we looked up papa was trying hard to swallow 
something that seemed bent on sticking in his throat, and dabbing 
at his eyes with his handkerchief. 

“ ‘ “I’ll bet we will all fall in love with Ulda ,” suggested papa 
tentatively, for want of something better to say. “If she’s a re¬ 
plica of Luvele, as Mile. Le Grande said, how could I help loving 
the poor little motherless thing,” said Velcie, and her velvet eyes 
grew moist and reminiscent. “Of course I shall love her too,” said 
I, “for any child like Luvele will have no trouble finding the door to 
my heart.” Velcie gave me a look that was a whole dictionary, 
and just then papa came in with Luvele in his arms and announced 
that supper was called. 

“ ‘We all went directly to the dining-room, and Captain Lan- 
ning introduced us to his other guests and assigned us places on 
each side of the table and next to his station at the head of the 
table. We all recognized this as a special honor he had bestowed 
on us and felt duly grateful. The Captain was an old hand at the 
river, business and a born diplomat and pleasant conversationalist, 
so we were soon pleasantly engaged in lively conversation with the 
other guests, and there was much polite badinage and good-fellow¬ 
ship prevailed. 

“‘The Captain was pleased with us I could see, and after sup¬ 
per he invited us up to the bridge with him. The evening was a fine 
one in early May, and the river was as placid as a tangled summer 
dream. 

“ ‘ “Ah!” sighed the Captain. “I wish I had that chap with 
me who came up from New Orleans as far as Cairo some time ago. 
He was certainly a genius when it came to playing the banjo and 
piano and singing and imitating sounds and voices;” and the good 
man sighed ruefully. “I offered him every inducement to just 


228 


RED KLOVER. 


travel up and down with me and entertain my guests, but he seemed 
to have something weighing heavily on his mind, and 4 left me at 
Cairo. He said he was going to Cinci. That was the first and 
last I ever saw him; and he was an educated chap, too, Pm tellin’ 
o’ ye all.” “What kind of a looking man was he?” asked father 
casually, altho we all knew who it was. His description left no 
room for doubt. “By the way, madam,” said the Captain, “your 
little one there looks enuff like him to be his own child,” and he 
looked at Luvele, who was playing between Velcie and me. “I 
have been told before that she resembles other persons,” laffed 
Velcie easily; “infact, I suppose that everyone has a few doubles.” 
“Yes, I suppose so,” meditated the Captain; “but I never saw 
such a remarkable resemblance in all my life as exists between your 
dauter and my late guest and friend, Dick—n-o, not Dick, but 
Jack—Jack Curtis , he said his name was, and a most likable chap 
he was, too.” As we made no further reply to his reminiscences 
of his late friend, the Captain easily changed the subject in reply 
to a question from papa. 

“ ‘The trip up to St. Louis was a delightful one and we all en¬ 
joyed it and the perfect weather. The second night we tied up at 
the wharf in the city of St. Louis, but as it was late and the boat 
would tie up there till the following afternoon, the Captain told 
us we might remain on board that night, and thus save ourselves 
a hotel bill. We accepted his kind invitation and also took break¬ 
fast aboard the Water Queen. 

“ ‘Then we went to the Southern Hotel and registered and se¬ 
cured good rooms; then we strolled about town, and Velcie and I 
did some shopping till luncheon-time. We soon located the theater 
where “Jack” was the leading man. We bought tickets and located 
ourselves in a lower left-hand box. We had decided to attend and 
see the performance and study him closely, and incidentally see if 
he would recognize any of us.’ 

Chapter VII. 

AT THE OLYMPIC. 

“ ‘We were on hand in good time, and I c'onfess that our nerves 
were on the qui vive and ready to snap asunder,’ continued my 
visitor; ‘however, we all controlled ourselves quite well, and it 
seemed like a holiday party out for a good time. 

“ ‘The play was “A Woman’s Faith,” one of those old-fash¬ 
ioned dramas that lay bare human life and depict human nature 


A STRANGE CASE . 


229 


in many of its freak phases. The wife was true and loyal and so 
was her husband, but a wealthy suitor whom she had declined to 
marry was bent on an ignoble revenge, so he, with the help and 
connivance of some of his friends, cooked up a very strong case 
against the husband, and tried hard to destroy her faith in the loy¬ 
alty of her husband. A young woman was secured by the plotters 
and she borrowed her sister’s baby and posed it as her own and the 
husband’s illegitimate offspring. The plot was a really clever one 
and carefully carried out, and would have succeeded only the wife’s 
faith and trust in the integrity of her husband stood like a Gibraltar 
against all the lies his enemies were concocting and circulating. 
The husband was arrested and sent to prison, but in the last act 
the plotters failed to make good, because the girl who played the 
discarded mother was so touched by the baby fingers about her 
face and neck as she came into court to swear falsely against an in¬ 
nocent man that she got cold feet and broke down and confessed the 
whole affair before the court. So the wife was amply justified and 
rewarded by her unshaken faith in the goodness and innocence of 
her husband. It was a very touching drama and full of human 
interest, and there were not many dry eyes in the audience at the 
finale when the husband and wife were united. 

“ ‘This thrilling emotional drama was well calculated to test 
the enduring qualities of our nerves to the utmost limit, and how 
Velcie and I ever lived thru it with our husband playing the lead¬ 
ing role of the persecuted but faithful husband is still a mystery 
to us all. 

“ ‘The first act was the wedding scene between Jack and Edith, 
and when they stood at the altar responding to the marriage serv¬ 
ice, and he slipped the ring on her finger, I thot I would have to 
scream or go mad. Velcie was stronger than I, or a better actress, 
for she saw the danger of my exploding and gripped my hand just 
in time. If it hadn’t been for papa and Velcie, I surely would have 
fainted and caused a scene, and a scene was the last thing we wanted. 
And as the curtain went down on the last act, Velcie grasped my 
hand and murmured: “Oh, what an actor he is! what a genius!” 
Then she just sobbed and moaned as tho her soul were saying “good¬ 
bye” to her forever. 

“ ‘Between the first and second acts Ulda came on and did a 
song and weird fancy dance, and oh, what a little genius she was! 
The vast audience just went wild over the child and encored and 
applauded until the house physician came out and announced that 


230 


RED KLOVER. 


the child had to be limited in the amount of work she did for fear 
of a nervous breakdown. And oh. the resemblance to her father 
and to Luvele! I never saw such a remarkable resemblance be¬ 
tween two children, even in the case of twins. When the sweet 
little fairy tripped out in her snowy white garments and just seemed 
to float about like a great butterfly, papa and I both had to grip 
Velcie and prevent her from screaming and jumping out on the 
stage and capturing the child so great was her agitation. “Did 
you ever see anything like it?” she exclaimed in a wild frenzy. 
“There is positively something uncanny about it!” and we had to 
pacify her and cling to her, for we knew not just what she might 
attempt. 

“ ‘We all remained in our box for awhile, and agreed that we 
were not strong and self-possessed enuff to try to interview La 
Salle just then. We must have time to think—and plan; so we 
quietly went for a ride to Forest Park to cool our nerves and to 
think. 

“ ‘ “Oh! what shall we do?” exclaimed Velcie as soon as we 
were seated on a rustic bench near the Cave of the Winds. “Search 
me,” laconically sighed father, and descending to the use of slang 
for the first time. “Why, papa!” I exclaimed reprovingly. “Beg 
pardon, my children,” he said, “but I am so dumfounded and ex¬ 
hausted I did not think of my language.” “And to think that he 
never recognized any of us!” exclaimed Velcie. “I caught his eye 
a number of times and tried to smile at him, but his face was like 
a block of marble—gave no sign of recognition.” She looked away 
into the Great Nothingness and sighed resignedly. 

“ ‘ “And Ulda /” sighed papa more to himself than to us. “I 
just knew she would be wonderful. How I should like to have her!” 
and his head drooped in a deep reverie. “And so would we all,” 

I added. “What a remarkable child, and such a genius!” I con¬ 
tinued to myself. “And Pm going to have her!” positively de¬ 
clared Velcie, and there was a strange light in her eyes—a look that 
was positively uncanny. “Why, my dear,” cooed papa as he gently 
took her hand and tried to soothe her, “how on earth could you 
get the girl? and you would not be allowed to keep her if you did 
get possession of her.” “I don’t care; Pm going to abduct the 
girl, and then we may be able to lure him to us;” and her eyes 
took on a new light—a look of hope and faith. “My dear sister,” 

I said, “Pm afraid the plan would end disastrously for us all. I 
think we had better all try to see him first and have a talk with 


A STRANGE CASE . 


231 


him alone, and then if he doesn’t recognize any of us—well, I really 
don’t know what to do.” “That is true” replied Velcie; “but if 
Jack failed to recognize us while we were in the box to-day, I am 
afraid it would be the same if we were alone with him. My idea 
is to get Ulda and Luvele together and call his attention to the 
wonderful resemblance between them and see if that won’t revive 
his memory as Dr. Holmes,” declared Velcie quite hopefully. “That 
might be a good plan,” admitted father rather dubiously. “But 
how are we going to bring the children together except back on 
the stage? and we don’t want the actors to catch on and suspect 
anything,” continued father doubtfully. “We might invite him 
and Ulda to dine with us after the matinee Saturday, and merely 
state that some old friends from Cincinnati want to pay their re¬ 
spects and homage to him and his talented little dauter, and that 
we have a pleasant surprise in store for them. We can have our 
carriage at the stage door and carry them directly to our hotel, and 
we can have a private dining-room for the dinner, and thus be all 
alone,” explained papa. “I’m heartily in favor of that plan!” ex¬ 
claimed Velcie; “and if he fails to recognize us, we will be acquaint¬ 
ed with him and his dauter, and that will enable us to visit with 
them and see more of them than we otherwise could. I particu¬ 
larly want to cultivate Ulda and bring her and Luvele together all 
we can. I just feel that something will come out of it;” and a new 
hope lighted up her face and she was radiantly beautiful. 

“ 4 “This is Thursday,” mused papa, 44 and we will go back to 
the hotel now and write the invitation and send it to him in his 
dressing-room to-night. They have the same bill to-night, but we 
can go by there and send the note to him by one of the ushers, and 
then we can go on and attend another theater.” 44 Very well, ” said 
Velcie and I at the same time. The invitation was sent in, and 
the next day about noon we received a polite note and an accept¬ 
ance of our invitation. 

44 4 44 But I can’t imagine who you all can be,” said La Salle in 
the note. 44 1 have been in Cincinnati a number of times, but never 
lived there. However, I am always pleased to be remembered by 
old friends; and we will be on hand as soon after the matinee as 
we can dress and be ready. Sincerely yours, Jack Curtis.” 

4 4 4 4 4 Well, wouldn’t that get you!” exclaimed papa, with more 
energy than politeness; but I was too excited to call him on the 
carpet on account of hi& language. 


232 


RED KLOVER. 


“ 4 “And he never lived in Cincinnati,” quoted Velcie, with a 
look of sympathy toward me. “It do beat the Dutch,” continued 
the girl, and this was the first time she ever used slang—even in a 
quotation. ’ 

Chapter VIII. 

THE, DINNER AT THE SOUTHERN HOTEL. 

“ ‘On the next day at about 4:40 p. m.,’ continued my visitor, 
‘papa met Mr. Curtis and his dauter near the stage entrance of 
the Olympic Theater, but Jack did not show any signs of recogni¬ 
tion when they met. 

“ ‘ “Ah! Mr. Curtis, I’m glad to meet you again, but I guess 
you have forgotten me,” exclaimed papa as he grasped Jack’s hand. 
The two men greeted each other pleasantly, and then Curtis said: 
“Mr. Vangive, meet Miss Ulda Curtis, my only child.” “I am 
delighted to meet such a very charming and talented young lady,” 
greeted papa pleasantly, and he clasped the child’s timid hand and 
said a few polite and pleasant greetings to her. He had difficulty 
in restraining himself from clasping the child in his arms, she was 
so sweet and beautiful and modest and timid, notwithstanding her 
stage bringing-up. 

“ £ “Has monsieur lived in Cincinnati long?” politely inquired 
Curtis in perfect French. “ Out, monsieur , most of my life; but 
our family comes originally from Baltimore;” and papa watched 
the effect of this shot closely, but it utterly failed to land. “I’m 
a Johns Hopkins man and took my degree there in medicine more 
than twenty-five years ago.” Still no effect. “But I don’t sup¬ 
pose you know anything about doctors and medical matters,” con¬ 
tinued father, in hopes of reviving his memory as Dr. Holmes. “Not 
much, I must confess, as I’m seldom sick and have no need for the 
craft.” 

“ ‘Papa changed the subject and carelessly asked: “How old 
is your dauter, Mr. Curtis?” “Ulda has just celebrated her eighth 
birthday,” proudly admitted Jack, “and some folks think she has 
a great future.” “I never had the pleasure of seeing her on the 
stage but once, but I would bet my last dollar that she reaches 
the top before she reaches her majority,” exclaimed father warmly 
and with a look of admiration in his eyes. “Oh, thank you, sir!” 
exclaimed Jack, and he warmly grasped father’s hand and wrung 
it ardently. “You’re so kind, senor,” modestly bowed Ulda, and 
she laid her soft white hand on papa’s hand and smiled sweetly in 


A STRANGE CASE. 


233 


his face. She instinctively liked and trusted papa, and before they 
reached the hotel the two were bon camerades. This greatly pleased 
papa and Mr. Curtis also liked it. 

“ ‘Papa first brot them to our private sitting-room and presented 
them in a formal way. “Mr. Curtis, meet my dauter, Mrs. La Salle 
Verndon, and my dauter-in-law , Mrs. Ralph Holmes,” said papa. 
“Delighted to meet you, ladies, and am pleased to be your guest,” 
said Mr. Curtis. “But I was under the impression that I was to 
meet some old friends and be treated to a surprise,” he continued, 
looking first at one of us and then at the other. Then he spied 
Luvele, who had be^n timidly hiding behind her mother. “Oh, 
madam, what a very beautiful child you have!” he exclaimed in 
French, and before we could utter a word he had Luvele in 
his arms and was tossing her up and cooing to her just like 
papa does, and the little witch just cooed and squeezed her pretty 
arms around his neck and screamed with delight. “And oh, how 
strangely she is like my Ulda!” he said. Then he held her off at 
arms’ length and closely scrutinized her, but gave no sign of recogni¬ 
tion. I feared poor Velcie would faint, so tense was the situation, 
and father and I had to support her to a chair. “Bless its little 
heart!” he continued, as tho we were not present. “Come here, 
Ulda,” he said, “and see what papa has found—she looks enuff 
like you to be your twin sister—and isn’t she the sweetest little 
dear you ever saw?” “Oh, papa, I want her!” exclaimed Ulda. 
“I would be so happy if I had a little sister like she is!” and Ulda 
took Luvele in her arms and squeezed and loved her and tossed her 
up and cooed to her while we all looked on entranced. “How old 
is the child?” suddenly asked Jack, and he looked Velcie straight 
and steadily in the eyes, but only with the polite interest of a strang¬ 
er. No light of recognition. Then he carelessly scanned me, and 
then he turned and looked papa over indifferently. “She is about 
twenty-two months old, monsieur,” returned Velcie casually; and 
then she took Ulda in her arms and exclaimed: “But, monsieur, 
how are we to account for the wonderful likeness between our chil¬ 
dren—when they are not related in any way?” and she laid her 
hand on his arm and looked him steadily in the eyes. How she 
ever controlled herself I don’t know. “It is a puzzle, madam,” he 
returned carelessly in French, and then turned again and took Lu¬ 
vele from Ulda’s arms and proceeded to love her and coo to the 
little mite, and oh, how she did enjoy it! “Luvele dear, you must 
come to mamma now,” said Velcie; “you will make Mr.—er— Cur - 


234 


RED KLOVER. 


tis tired,” and she reached up to Jack’s arms for Luvele; but the 
little witch just put her arms around his nesk and held on and just 
screamed with joy. “Oh, no! Mrs. Holmes,” replied Jack, “she is 
not tiring me in the least, I assure you. I never tire of children. 
I’m so sorry I have no little sister or brother for Ulda; but Zurane 
{my late wife) died suddenly as the result of a fall she received in the 
theater when Ulda was about three years old, and I have never 
considered marriage again—in fact, it is hard to get over the loss 
of a loved one;” and he actually wiped away some intruding tears 
and tried bravely to swallow something in his throat. 

“ ‘How Velcie and I ever controlled ourselves and did not faint 
or scream I do not know. Of one thing we are all certain—the man 
was not acting—he was sincere. I noticed papa dabbing at his 
eyes, too. It was a dramatic moment, and we all felt the tension. 

“ ‘ “I must remind you all that our dinner is probably getting 
cold, and if you haven’t lost your appetites, I suggest that we ad¬ 
journ to the dining-room,” said papa, and we all looked at him in a 
relieved way. He had very delicately saved the day, for none of 
us khew what might happen next. 

“ ‘Jack bowed low and courteously, and carried Luvele in his 
right arm and politely offered his left arm to Velcie; father and I 
brot up the rear with Ulda between us, and she had an arm twined 
around each of us and we had our arms about her—it was some 
procession, I assure you. 

“ ‘I never took my eyes off Velcie for an instant, for she was 
so wrot up and her nervous tension was so great that I feared she 
would go mad or faint any minute. How she ever lived thru it I 
do not know—and neither does she. 

“ ‘When we reached the table Velcie wanted to take Luvele, 
but Jack would not hear to it; he insisted on holding her on his 
lap and feeding her and playing with her. His soul was a hungry 
one, and he would not be denied. This strangely touched and 
pleased Velcie and her face was a color study all right enuff. “The 
child has taken a strange liking to you, Mr. Curtis,” observed Vel¬ 
cie, and again she faced him with both of her beautiful eyes liv¬ 
ing interrogation points. “Yes; it is a bit strange and touching,” 
he said; “but children have always liked me. I presume it is be¬ 
cause I am so fond of them and always play with them when I 
can;” and he laffed pleasantly, but so indifferently. “Was your 
wife equally fond of them?” I ventured, more as a means of keep¬ 
ing up the conversation than because I cared to know. “Oh my, 


A STRANGE CASE. 


235 


yes!” he replied. “She was just crazy about them—spent most 
of her income endowing and supporting children’s homes, etc.” 

“ 4 “Excuse the question, Mr. Curtis, but was your wife in the 
profession too ? ” and Vclcie faced him again; but no results. “Oh, 
yes!” he replied. “She was an actress when we married—prac¬ 
tically born in the business. By the way, Mrs.—er—Holmes, were 
you ever on the stage?” “N-o, not exactly, but I have often thot 
of trying my hand at it;” and again she looked straight into his 
soul—and beyond; but all was blank. Papa and I were puzzled 
at this strange reply of hers, for we had never heard her even hint 
at such a thing. Perhaps, however, she was grinding an axe and 
politely getting Mr. Curtis to rotate the emery wheel for her; so 
we did not show any surprise nor interrupt. “I really believe you 
have decided talent, Mrs.—er—Holmes,” and he looked her over 
critically and with the quick and sure eye of a connoisseur. “Oh! 
wouldn’t that be grand if I had? for now that I am alone in the 
world and have a child to support, I might find an easy and pleas¬ 
ant way of earning a livelihood on the stage;” and she actually 
was enthusiastic and beamed on him. “Well, if you would really 
like to try, I should be pleased to coach you and give you a chance,” 
he said. “We are really short a couple of people now, since some 
of them went to Memphis. Mile. Le Grande, our character woman, 
recently went to Memphis to take the place of a girl who died there 
and we haven’t been able to fill her place satisfactorily. I will 
speak to Joe—Mr. Lively, our manager, and I feel sure we can de¬ 
velop you. I will speak to him to-morrow; and we have a re¬ 
hearsal every Monday afternoon between 2 and 4.30 o’clock. Of 
course, you will be at our opening to-morrow matinee at 2 o’clock?” 
“Why, y-e-s, I reckon so?” Velcie replied, and she looked at papa 
and me for an answer. “To be sure we will, Mr. Curtis, for we 
see you have an excellent company, and we are all fond of the the¬ 
ater anyway, so we will be there promptly,” said father, as tho he 
had an extra ace or two up his sleeve. 

“ ‘The meal was soon finished and we all voted it a success, 
and we felt that the actor left considering us his friends. He of¬ 
fered us complimentaries to the theater, but we declined, as we did 
not want to attract so much attention and be known as his friends; 
besides, we had ample means to pay our way, and would thus feel 
more independent; he was evidently surprised at our refusal to accept 
such a courtesy, and considered us very superior mortals. We re¬ 
turned him to the theater, and then went for a quiet drive about the 


236 RED KLOVER. 

boulevards. As soon as we were alone, father broke forth with: 

44 4 44 Well, dauter mine, what on earth have you up your sleeve 
in wanting to try the histrionic art?” and he looked searchingly at 
Velcie. 44 Yes, Father Vangive,” she replied, 44 1 have an axe that 
needs a few turns on the stone, and F e decided to let Mr. Curtis 
have the job of turning the crank;” and she smiled softly unto 
herself. 44 Well, what is the big idea, sister mine?” said I curiously. 
“Well, I think that by being with him a great deal and letting him 
see Luvele constantly it may revive his Dr. Holmes identity;” and 
she sighed hopefully. 44 Perhaps so,” admitted father, doubtfully. 
44 Well, as we have no other plans at present, Jt won’t do any harm 
to try it,” I said resignedly. So we decided to let Velcie try the 
footlights for awhile, and when we met Jack at the matinee the 
next day we so informed him, and he seemed delighted and felt 
sure of her success. It was arranged for us to bring her to the re¬ 
hearsal Monday afternoon.’ 

Chapter IX. 

THE NEW STAR. 

44 4 We were in our box early Sunday afternoon, and I never 
beheld such radiant beauty and transcendent happiness as Velcie’s 
face showed,’ said my visitor. 4 It seemed positively weird and 
uncanny at times, and I saw that she had difficulty in keeping her 
overwrot nerves in leash; but the girl had a mind of her own, 
and was capable of scaling mental heights of which we did not 
dream. Jack must have been watching for us, for he came to our 
box twenty minutes before it was curtain-time, and we all greeted 
him cordially, and he seemed quite radiant with a new happiness 
that had taken complete possession of him. 

44 4 44 I’m so glad you all came early,” said Jack, 44 for I wanted 
to have a few words with Mrs.—er—Holmes before we begin. We 
will present the same bill all week, and you’re to play the part of 
Lady Arlington, the wronged but faithful wife, and you can get 
the hang of the part fairly well by watching it closely to-day. The 
lady who plays the part to-day is only a woman we secured for 
to-day, but we think she can play it fairly well. It is quite an 
emotional role and if you can work up to the spirit of it and color 
it with the real soul-colors, you can be our leading lady, and there 
will be no trouble about the salary.” 44 I’m so glad you came to 
explain it to me,” blushed. Velcie happily, “for I have set my heart 
on winning the highest honors in my new profession,” and she con- 


A STRANGE CASE. 


237 


tinued to blush like a school-girl entangled in her first love-affair. 

“ ‘ “Here are your lines, Mrs.—er—Holmes,” said Jack, “and 
I want you to learn them so there will be no hitch. By the way, 
what is your Christian name?” he inquired., “It is Velcie , and 
I would so much rather that you use it instead of the formality 
of ‘Mrs. Holmes’ every time;” and she blushed the whole gamut 
of colors—and a few new ones all her very own. “Thank you, 
Velcie ,” returned Jack. “You have a very pretty name, and it 
won’t be necessary to give you a stage name —Velcie Holmes will 
be all right for a stage name and it has a soft Southern sound that 
I like.” “OhI thank you, Mr.—er—Curtis—but may I not call 
you Jack?” asked Velcie. “To be sure you may and I shall esteem 
it a personal favor;” and he slyly reached over and squeezed her 
hand, which made the blushes flow like the soft and shimmering 
moonlight on the Elbe River in Septober. I nudged father, but 
he was too amazed to speak and just stared. “I’ll come again 
after the second act and see how you feel about it,” he said, and 
he left us to dress for his part. 

“‘Jack played the leading role of Lord Arlington, a wealthy 
and titled roue, who had contracted a secret marriage with a farm¬ 
er’s dauter under a false narpe. He was very fond of his new wife 
and also of their dauter; but Lady Arlington had him followed by 
Scotland Yard men, and she was fast getting onto his curves, and 
at last had all the evidence she needed. She gav'e him the choice 
of giving up his country-girl wife or be prosecuted for bigamy. If 
it had only been the other way—to give up her ladyship—how 
quickly he could have made a choice! He lied like a gentleman 
and a traveling-man, and protested his innocence, but Lady Arl¬ 
ington had the groceries on him, and his fairy tales would not go— 
with her ladyship. Of course his girl-wife was ignorant of his iden¬ 
tity, and he had to lie to her like a millionaire making his returns 
to the income-tax collector. Finally nasty rumors reached the 
young wife, but she refused to credit them and stood by him with 
a faith and loyalty that was beautiful. Even after he was arrested 
and haled into court on a bigamy charge that had very adhesive 
qualities about it, the young wife, in order to save him, swore on 
the stand that she never saw him before, but that he greatly re¬ 
sembled her husband. This was a stunner to the prosecution, and 
the Crown was unable to make out a case against him. Then fol¬ 
lowed the clandestine meetings between the lovers for awhile. Lady 
Arlington’s long horseback ride in disguise in order to surprise her 


238 


RED KLOVER. 


husband with the girl, and her injury from a runaway horse near 
the young wife’s cottage. The young wife found her unconscious 
by the roadside and carried her to the cottage and after consider¬ 
able time revived her. Lord Arlington arrived before her lady¬ 
ship revived, assumed the disguise of a farmer, and helped the 
young wife care for their distinguished guest. She recognized the 
young wife, but failed to recognize her husband. The young farm¬ 
er (Henry Wallace) went for a physician, and when he examined 
the iryured woman and told her that she only had a short time to 
live, she got scared and told the doctor who she really was and 
begged him to inform her people at home. He did so, but when 
they arrived Lady Arlington was dead. An old family servant 
recognized his lordship, and in his cups he let the cat out of the 
bag. Here again the young.wife had to do some high and lively 
lying in order to save her lover—and the father of her child. It 
was a trying situation for the young wife, and showed how love and 
faith can overcome all obstacles. This was the part that Velcie 
had essayed to play—and with her own husband in the role of Lord 
Arlington. 

“ £ “Oh, sister! you can never go thru it with him ,” I said. 
“You had better give it up. If it was almost any other play, you 
might succeed; but such a role—and with your own husband, who 
doesn’t know that he is your husband—and also mine.” “Of course I 
can play it, and, what’s more, I’m going to play it, and in my own 
way, too,” said Velcie. “My nerves are all right now; and I am 
going to have the joy, if only in play, of resting in his dear arms 
again and feeling his soul-kisses on my lips night after night, and 
who knows what those kisses may revive? And I will softly call 
him Ralph while in his arms and living over again those Vast For¬ 
ever kisses—the kisses that put immortality in every life. And if 
I fail to revive his memory, I feel that he will love me all over again 
as Jack Curtis; so I will be sure of getting his love again—and per¬ 
haps himself, for I feel that he already loves me;” and she looked 
supremely happy. “Why, Velcie! would you let him make love 
to you as Jack Curtis?” I gasped in astonishment, for I’d never thot 
of that possibility. “Why not, sister mine?” she replied. “If I can 
not get him in one way, why not in some other way?” And I saw 
the unanswerableness of her logic; besides, as long as he remained 
Jack Curtis , what difference did it make to me? 

“‘“It’s a rather daring undertaking, dauter,” said father, 
“but I see no harm in it, and Velcie is sure to be a winner—tern- 


A STRANGE CASE. 


239 


porarily, at least; and when he leaves his present identity he is 
due to return to La Salle Verndon, and from that identity to Dr. 
Holmes, then back to Jack Curtis again; so if he wants Velcie to 
marry him as Jack Curtis , that will assure her twice as much of him 
as she would otherwise get. If he prefers you , Loree, by all means 
marry him again. It seems to me that Velcie has hit on a brilliant 
scheme to get her husband back—without his knowing it;” and 
papa actually laffed at the humor of it, and so did Velcie, but I 
must admit that it seemed more like tragedy to me. 

“ ‘At last the fatal Monday night rolled around, and Velcie 
surely did make a hit. She threw her lines to the wind and simply 
followed her heart, and caused a tremendous sensation, and was 
called before the curtain until she could not respond any more. 
The applause was so deafening and persistent that she came out 
again and sang an old song that Ralph had composed, and played 
her own accompaniment on the guitar, and the feeling and soul- 
expression she put in it scored another big hit. And Mr. Curtis 
gasped with astonishment and wonderment, and asked: “Where 
did you get that song?” “Oh, that is one I learned in Baton Rouge ” 
Velcie replied; “an old-lover-taught it to me; we used to sing it 
together;” and she transfixed him with a look that must have gone 
thru him and clinched itself on the other side; but there were no 
results, so far as memory was concerned. “I should like to have 
the song, so I may learn it too, for I like it,” continued Jack. “Oh! 
very well, Jack; I will teach it to you,” said Velcie. “Could you 
come to the hotel to-morrow forenoon?” “To be sure I can,” said 
Jack. “I would go anywhere to meet you, my dear Velcie; so 
look for me at 10 o clock or earlier.” 

“ ‘Then we returned to the hotel; and Jack insisted on es¬ 
corting Velcie to the carriage and politely handing her in and kiss¬ 
ing her hand adieu. 

“ ‘As soon as the carriage was under way, I gathered Velcie 
in my arms and squeezed and congratulated her, and so did father. 
“Wonderful! Magnificent! I’m indeed proud of you, Velcie!” he 
exclaimed, and continued to hug her. “I fe«l sure he will ask you 
to marry him to-morrow.” “I hope so, Father Vangive, for I really 
believe I shall die if he doesn’t,” said Velcie. 

“ ‘ “Well, of all the strange cases and puzzling things, this has 
them all beaten!” exclaimed father, more to himself than to either 
of us. “I admit that it is a past master in the puzzling line—and 
then some,” returned I. 


240 


RED KLOVER. 


“ ‘ “But if he marries you now, Velcie, and then changes to 
La Salle, what will you do?” I asked curiously. “Why, just pa¬ 
tiently wait till my turn comes again, either as Mrs. Holmes or as 
Mrs. Curtis,” she replied, seeming to enter into the spirit of the 
case with a feeling of jollity instead of sorrow. “There is no use 
of being blue and worrying about our strange fate, for we can’t 
help it, and we have agreed on just letting things take their inev¬ 
itable course;” and again she looked quite amused and happy. “I 
guess you are right, sister mine; so I will just accept whatever Fate 
has in store for me, and bear my cross the best I can,” said I re¬ 
signedly. “That is the only way to look at it, Loree,” said papa, 
“and I am glad we all agree on what to do with this strange elephant 
we have on our hands;” and he gave a sigh of relief. 

Chapter X. 

JACK PROPOSES TO HIS NEW STAR. 

“ ‘At 9:45 o’clock the next forenoon a page brought Mr. Curtis’ 
card to Velcie and she ordered that he be sent up at once,’ said my 
visitor. ‘She was dressed in that becoming soft gray dress that 
was trimmed in that soft and whispering shade of red, and she 
surely did look beautiful and entrancing. How could Jack Curtis 
help falling in love with such a rare and talented little woman? 
He could not, even if he wanted to, and he showed no symptoms 
of desiring to keep from failing in love with her. Fate was again 
dealing and we could not object to the kind of a hand she dealt us, 
and if the fickle jade should choose to deal Velcie more aces than 
fell to my lot—well, I just had to grin and bear it. It is strange 
I felt no jealousy toward Velcie, but I loved her as tho she were my 
own sister, and father just worshiped her and Luvele. I really 
believe he thot more of them than he did of me and Rambert. 

“ ‘ “Ah! huenos dias , la belle Velcie /” Jack exclaimed in a 
mixture of Spanish and French; then he advanced toward her with 
his heart in one eye and his soul in the other one, and reached out 
his hand for hers; but she smilingly extended both of her pretty 
white hands toward him, *ind exclaimed: “I never felt better in 
my life, senor, and the sight of yourself has completed my happi¬ 
ness;” then she drooped her proud and beautiful head and tried 
to outblush a full-blown June rose that has just held a tryst with 
the sun. “My own precious darling!” he exclaimed as he harvest¬ 
ed her to his hungry heart, and somehow or other their lips met in 
the middle of the street and swapped souls. “My own dear Ral— 


A STRANGE CASE . 


241 


I mean Jack,” she softly breathed against his cheek, and tried to 
keep him from seeing her happy blushes. They just stood there 
and squeezed and kissed each other for a few minutes; then he 
held her at arms’ length and looked long and searchingly in her 
eyes—and away beyond—-but only emerald vistas of flowers and 
tangled vines and dew-empearled grass met his vision. He seemed 
satisfied, for he took her again in his arms and they exchanged 
some more of those Vast Forever kisses that keep the beauty and 
fragrance in the flowers and rainbow the heart with immortality. 
“Little sweetheart mine,” he said, “as Nature intended us for each 
other, will you become my wife?” and again their lips melted into 
soul-music and heart-melody. “Yes, dear heart—my own sweet 
lover of the Long Ago, I will unite my life with yours—for better or 
for worse —just as Mistress Fate decides,” replied Velcie; and her 
pretty white arms silently found their way around his neck and just 
stayed there, or at least that is where they were when I interrupted 
them with: 

“ ‘ “I beg pardon, Romeo and Juliet, but if you mortals have 
not lost the taste for food, father and I desire the honor of enter¬ 
taining you both at luncheon, which will be served in our private 
dining-room in about fifteen minutes.” “AhI thank you, senora; 
I am famishing—as hungry as the great and remorseless Sahara 
ever is for rain,” said Jack; and he came forward and held out his 
hand to me like a naughty boy caught with the blackberry jam 
around his mouth. “I congratulate you both,” said I; and his 
hand held mine in a warm and friendly grasp, and Velcie timidly 
came and took me in her arms and blushed happily over my left 
shoulder and down my back. Then I escorted them to the dining¬ 
room just as father was entering. We went in together, with Jack 
between us and an arm around each of us. The electric touch of 
his dear arm almost made my self-control desert me, but I just had 
to play my part and not break down. I would not for the world 
let Velcie outdo me in the acting line; so I just got a fresh hold on 
my riotous nerves and smiled and looked as happy as tho it were 
my wedding—instead of my funeral—temporarily, at least. “I am 
glad to meet you, my boy,” exclaimed father cordially; “and I see 
that congratulations are in order. Bless you, my children;” and 
he put an arm affectionately around them and playfully bumped 
their heads together, and the laff that followed relieved the fearful 
tension that threatened to snap my nerves asunder. 

“‘We all fell to, and enjoyed our excellent luncheon; and I 


242 


RED KLOVER. 


never saw a happier pair in all my life. I thot, “What a pity they 
are not playing Borneo and Juliet’ to-night!” Each night Velcie 
scored a bigger success, and the house was packed to its capacity 
at every performance. 

“ ‘ “And when is the happy event to take place?” asked father 
tentatively. Velcie and Jack both looked at each other sheepishly, 
and the question-mark was in their eyes. “Why—er—really, Father 
Vangive, sister interrupted our little seance awhile ago, and we 
have had no opportunity to decide on the date yet,” replied Velcie, 
and she blushed like a night-blooming cereus in the tangled moon¬ 
light. “I can be ready in a week, I reckon,” she continued, and 
looked across at Jack hungrily. “Oh, yes! I can be ready then— 
or in three minutes,” Jack facetiously added. “There is nothing like 
promptness, my boy,” commented father; and we all again joined 
in the merriment. “Very well, ” said Valcie; “then at n o’clock 
next Tuesday forenoon, and we can then have a wedding breakfast 
right here in this room, and the whole company can be present.” 
“That suits me to a t” said Jack enthusiastically; and he reached 
across the table and clasped her hand a moment—and it was one 
of those elongated minutes that aren’t very particular about the 
number of seconds they contain. So it was sealed and settled, and 
now we must bestir ourselves in order to have a suitable trousseau 
ready, and a week is a very short time in which to prepare for 
such an important event. But Velcie had some more radical and 
romantic ideas in that precious little head of hers, and she quietly 
remarked,: 

“‘“For some unaccountable reason, I carefully packed my 
wedding dregs, veil, slippers, and all in my trunk when we left Baton 
Rouge, for I had a premonition or hunch that I would need them 
again; so you see—” “For goodness sake, Velcie!” I exclaimed; 
“you are not going to be married a second time in the same gar¬ 
ments? It brings bad luck, sure.” “Bad fiddlesticks!” she laffed. 
“If I were to be married to another man, I should not wear them, 
of course; but as I am to be married to the same man again, what 
difference does it make?” and she looked at father and me with 
a quizzical and devilish light in her dancing eyes. “Besides, it may 
remind him of the past;” and she sighed softly to herself. “I think 
it is a splendid idea,” agreed father; “besides, it is so romantic, 
and I confess that I am growing sentimental myself.” That set¬ 
tled the trousseau question, for when father and Velcie both voted 
“yea” on a question, it was useless for me to bring in a minority 


A STRANGE CASE. 


243 


report; so I acquiesced, and we fell to talking over the other details 
of the affair, and especially considering the wedding breakfast. 
That must be a real affair—something bon ton and recherche , in order 
to reflect the proper credit on the high contracting parties. 

“ ‘As soon as Jack had departed, father went down and saw 
the manager about the breakfast and that wise and astute man sent 
a page to summon the chef. His cookship soon arrived and ad¬ 
dressed father and the manager in correct French: 

“ ‘ “Ah! certainly, m’sieurs. I know just what the occasion re¬ 
quires and how to prepare and serve it—just leave it to Jacquez;” 
and he struck an attitude and caressed his stiletto moustaches in a 
manner that precluded all discussion; so it was left to the talented 
son of La Belle France, and Jacquez surely did make good and pro¬ 
duced the goods, or rather the eats. 

“ ‘The wedding was a quiet but swell affair, and was attended by 
the entire company and two managers of other theaters in the city. 
The mayor performed the ceremony for them, and everything went 
off as smoothly as could be desired. 

“‘If anyone was happier than Velcie and Jack, it was Ulda 
and Luvele, for now they were sisters indeed and could be together 
all the time. The two little girls had been inseparable from their 
first meeting, and now their joy knew no bounds. 

“ ‘The daily papers had full and sensational accounts of the 
affait, but did not know the truth about the strange wedding. The 
Republic had it: 

“A ROMANTIC WEDDING IN THEATRICAL CIRCLES. 


“Mr. Jack Curtis, Leading Man in the Southern Stock Company, 
Is United in Marriage to His Leading Lady, the Petite and Beau¬ 
tiful Little Ingenue, Miss Velcie Holmes—The Ceremony 
Takes Place on the Stage of the Olympic Theater in 
the Presence of a Vast and Curious Audience— 

The Mayor Officiates as Clergy¬ 
man”—Etc., Etc. 

And then followed several pages about the wedding breakfast, the 
romantic meeting of the parties, and Velcie’s sudden entrance into 
the theatrical business, etc. 

“ ‘Well, it was all over at last, and Velcie had regained her 
husband — and also mine, and I laffed as the humor of it dawned 
on me.’ 

“‘Excuse me, madam/ I said to my visitor, ‘but one of the 



244 


RED KLOVER. 


strangest features of the case is the fact that you and Mrs. Holmes 
bore each other no feeling of jealousy. Are you quite sure that 
you never experienced a feeling of jealousy or hatred for the woman 
who took your husband away from you?’ 

“Yes, Doctor/ replied my visitor, ‘I am positive that I never 
felt jealous of her, and instead of hating her I really love her, and I 
am just as fond of her child as I am of my own. I know it is a very 
unusual thing, but I am also certain that Velcie is just as fond of me 
and has never felt a twinge of jealousy nor hatred toward me. She 
loves me just like I do her; and now that they are married, and 
papa and I must leave them, I really don’t know what we shall do 
without her, Luvele and Ulda. 

“ ‘Dr. Saunders,’ she continued, ‘I want you to give me your 
own true opinion of the case, £nd I especially want to know whether 
or not medical science can help La Salle. Of < ourse, I am not his 
first wife and, under the law, no wife at all; and neither was Velcie 
his wife as Mrs. Holmes, but now she is his legal wife and the only 
one who has a rightful claim upon him.’ 

“ ‘That is, if Zurane Lambert was his first wife,’ I replied; 
‘otherwise, she was not a legal wife; and, furthermore, if he had 
a wife prior to his marriage to Zurane and that wife is not divorced 
and still lives, she is his only legal wife, and in that case Velcie’s claims 
are devoid of all legality.’ 

“ ‘Oh, Doctor!’ said my visitor,‘I had not thot of that possi¬ 
bility and I don’t think that Velcie has either.’ 

“ ‘Well, it doesn’t make any difference now,’ I said, ‘for as they 
are united again and are so happy, it would be useless and cruel to 
call her attention to all the fine techincalities of the law in regard to 
the legal status of the case.’ 

“‘Father and I both agree with you on that point, Doctor/ 
said my visitor; ‘but what I most want light on now is, how his 
strange mental triality is likely to end—that is, will he ever revert 
to his other two known identities, and is he likely to have yet other 
identities?’ 

“ ‘As we have no record of such a case, Mrs. Verndon, I cannot 
enlighten you on that point/ I replied. ‘However, there are a 
few cases on record of double identity, or soul duality, and we know 
how they progressed and terminated; so, by the law of analogy, we 
may make a fairly reliable prognosis of this strange case.’ 

“ ‘All right, Doctor; let us have your opinion of the case—that 
is what I came here for/ continued my visitor. 


A STRANGE CASE. 


HS 


“ ‘Very well, madam,’ I replied; ‘but my opinion in this case 
is only a guess and you are welcome to it. In the cases of double 
identity the victim has always gone from one identity to the other 
with considerable regularity, but the time he remains in one identi¬ 
ty may vary—that is, he may remain in that identity a year at one 
time, and the next time he comes to that identity he may remain 
longer than a year or for less time than he did before. In one noted 
case in Austria the man remained in one of his identities for five 
years the second time he came to it, but on his third return he only 
stayed nine months, and then suffered a sudden stroke of apoplexy 
and died the second day without regaining consciousness.’ 

“ ‘Oh, heavens! is it possible that my poor husband may have 
such an untimely fate?’ she asked. 

“ ‘I can’t be sure, madam,’ I replied, ‘but he is most likely to 
end in paresis, apoplexy, or insanity—melancholy dementia. But 
cheer up, and let us hope for the best—at least for a more fortunate 
termination of the case. I should like to meet Mr.—er—Curtis; 
perhaps I could then throw some light on the case.’ 

“ ‘Just the thing, Doctor,’ said my visitor. ‘They are coming 
here to visit me and father when their season closes, and then we 
are all planning a trip to the seashore for the remainder of the sea¬ 
son. We can have you come out and dine with us, and we can all 
play tennis and golf together, and thus you and La Salle can be 
thrown together a great deal, and you can thus have ample oppor¬ 
tunity to study him; and also meet Velcie and father and study 
our children and see if they show any unusual mental symptoms. 
Do you know, Doctor, I have been wondering lately if my precious 
little Rambert may not develop the same mental ailment that his 
father has? He is so like La Salle in every way, and has the same 
inordinate fondness for music, etc.’ 

“‘It is just possible,’ I reluctantly admitted; ‘but it is quite use¬ 
less to cross a river before you get to it.’ And I tried to have her 
look on the bright side of the picture as much as possible. 

“ ‘Very well then, Doctor,’ continued my visitor; ‘we will ar¬ 
range for you to visit us, and maybe you may be able to discover 
something that might help us. And now, Doctor, how much do I 
owe you?’ she asked. 

“ ‘Not a cent, madam,’ I said.. ‘I haven’t been of any service 
to you yet, and my poor opinion in the case is only guess-work. 
But I should like to keep in touch with you and learn how they are 
getting along; and I shall be glad to meet La Salle and his wife 


246 


RED KLOVER. 


when they come to visit you. Keep me posted, madam, and if I 
can be of any help to you, let me know. I am greatly interested 
in the case and desire to investigate and study it.’ 

“Mrs. Verndon thanked me warmly and departed—somewhat 
relieved, but still on the fence—only the fence was a little higher.” 

“Whew!” exclaimed Kumdon, as the old Doctor paused and 
closed his memorandum-book and wiped his glasses carefully be¬ 
fore putting them away. “Is that all of it?” 

“Oh, no, my dear boy! that is just the curtain-raiser—the pre¬ 
liminary bout,” replied the Doctor, “but I don’t feel equal to con¬ 
tinuing it to-night; so if you come out here again Wednesday night, 
I will have the balance of the data on hand, and then we will re¬ 
sume where we leave off to-night. You will need several days to put 
it together properly, and in the meantime you can write out what 
I have told you to-night. And now we will go down and join the 
ladies awhile and have some refreshments—and, perhaps, a little 
music.” 

“Very well, Doctor,” said Kumdon; “and I cannot find words 
to express my gratitude for this wonderful story you have furnished 
me. Gee! but won’t it lay them out cold?” and the boy turned 
a handspring to express his joy. 

Velden and Evangeline were both pleased to see the young re¬ 
porter again,^and Velden remarked: 

“Mr. Spry, I know grampum must have just bored you nearly 
to death up in that old den of horrors of his.” 

“On the contrary, Miss Saunders,” said Kumdon, “I never en<- 
joyed anything so much in all my life.” 

“Not even me?” Velden asked; and the little witch pretended 
to pout and feel offended. 

“Oh! of course,” Kumdon replied; “but that’s different, Miss 
Saun—” 

“Why not just say ‘Velden* and cut out all that stated-occasion 
dignity?” smiled the little elf in a most tantalising and fascinating 
manner. 

“To be sure, if you prefer it; and my name is just Kumdon; 
and I never did go in much for this highbrow dignity stuff either.” 

“Oh! thank you, Kumdon —what an odd and pretty name!” 
said Velden. 

“Yes; it kind o’ goes well with Velden ,” answered Kumdon; 
and the little pirate smiled up his own sleeve, and his heart was 
dealing from the bottom of the deck, or that is the way Yulvern 


A STRANGE CASE. 


247 

would look at it, and as her name hopped on the deck of his memory- 
just then his face tried to pull off a rainbow stunt. 

“Why all those blushes, Mr.—er—oh! I mean Kumdon?” asked 
Velden. 

“Oh! nothing in particular,” Kumdon replied. “I’m just natur¬ 
ally shy, as Captain Stephens would say.” 

“I should like to meet the Captain—and also his niece,” said 
Velden, and she shot him a look that deprived the bull’s eye of its 
vision. 

“ I am sure I should be pleased to have you meet them,” said 
Kjumdon, “and I feel sure they would like to meet you, especially 
as you are a friend of mine.” 

“I feel sure the Captain and I would get along famously to¬ 
gether, for I imagine he is something of a humorist and a wag, and 
I should enjoy getting your history from him, for I just know he 
is something of a historian, but I am not so sure about hitting it 
off with his niece,” said Velden; and she watched his face like a 
cat does a mouse-hole. 

“Oh, I am sure you would like Yulvern!” he exclaimed in a 
confused way that was laffable. 

“Oh, what a beautiful name—far prettier and more romantic 
than mine!” said Velden. “I am just going to be named all over 
again;” and she knew how to use her mental scalpel and was using 
it too, and without the merciful intervention of an anesthetic.. 

“Velden!” exclaimed the Doctor, “lam going to send you right 
to bed this minute if you don’t quit dissecting Mr. Spry with that 
merciless tongue of yours. Just see how the poor lad blushing' 
and suffering.” 

“Oh! that’s all right, Doctor,” said Kumdon. “We reporters 
are used to the scalpel—and usually without an anesthetic;” and he 
shot one at Velden that caused her to wince. 

“Here, my boy; sample this nectar of the gods, for you will 
need some new pigment for that story,” continued the Doctor. 

“I thank you. Doctor; and here’s lookin’ at ye, Velden,” said 
Kumdon, and he reached over and touched glasses with hers. “Ah! 
Doctor, that’s an excellent vintage and it wil,l put new wings on 
my Pegasus, and perhaps—perhaps he may mutiny and run away.” 

Then they all laffed at the Doctor’s expense. 

“There, gtampum,” said Velden, “you see your sympathy is 
all wasted; and I am not even going to hone my scalpel the next 
time I go after him. But if Mr. Spry will go to the piano and play 


2 4 8 


RED KLOVER. 


and sing that beautiful song of his, I may bury the hatchet—so 
deep the handle won’t even stick up;” and she caressed Kumdon 
with her wonderful eyes until he didn’t remember whether the Cap¬ 
tain’s niece was named Yulvern or just plain Mary Jane. 

Kumdon turned himself loose and made a bigger hit than be¬ 
fore with the song, and as an encore sang another of his own com¬ 
positions. The spirit (or the wine) was now moving him, and he 
played and sang like one possessed. 

Velden’s beautiful eyes sparkled like the soft and dreamy 
moonlight on the Tombigbee River in April. Then they sang a duet 
together, and Kumdon consulted his watch and gasped: 

“I had no idea it was so late, and I must hurry to the office and 
hatch up something for to-morrow’s issue;” and he was off like 
a rocket. 

“Well, my boy, don’t forget where we live. Come any time 
you can. Good night;” and the old Doctor turned and proceeded 
to climb the wide and winding stairs. 

“Good night, Mr. Spry,” called Evangeline softly from the 
adjoining door. 

“Aren’t you going to say good night, Velden?” asked the boy 
in a bantering manner. 

“Nope. I have not had time to talk to you yet,” replied Vel¬ 
den, 4 ‘and I only had seven hundred and ninety-six things I wanted 
to ask you;” and she slipped her pretty little hand over on his sleeve 
and walked toward the door with him. 

“Good night, Velden,” said Kumdon. “I have enjoyed my¬ 
self very much, and I hope to see you all soon again;” and he was 
off at last. 

“Why the l you all 7” she fired after him; but only Echo an¬ 
swered her. 

Chapter XT 

THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY. 

The following Wednesday night soon rolled around, and then 
the young reporter feverishly bent his steps toward Dr. Saunders’ 
picturesque old home in the suburbs, for the youngster was crazy 
to get the remainder of the strange tale, for he had the story in 
good shape, and had drawn on his artistic imagination freely for the 
lace and other airy nothings for the trimmings. He intended it to 
be a real, sure-enuff story—a soul-gripper—a never-to-be-forgotten 
yarn that coming generations would whisper to their grandchildren 


A STRANGE CASE . 


249 


and shudder—even in August. He also had it well illustrated with 
appropriate drawings, and all he needed now was the finishing ma¬ 
terials—the rafters and shingles for the roof. He could draw on his 
own imagination for a cupola, if one were needed to give it a fin¬ 
ished and artistic finale. 

The old Captain and Monsieur Experience had both taught 
Kumdon the importance of doing things well, and he had surely 
done a James Dandy job on the story the old Doctor had given him; 
the young pirate had also done a pretty good job in the way of mak¬ 
ing a mash on Velden, altho it was really unintentional on his 
part. He just had to be awfully nice to the old Doctor and his fam¬ 
ily, and Velden, liking the young cub, mistook his urbanity and 
polite badinage for a personal interest in her beautiful self. She 
was badly spoiled anyway, and accustomed to having her own way 
and everything she wanted. 

The old Doctor had no children of his own, and had raised Vel¬ 
den since she was a year old and she was to be the only heir to his 
large and rapidly growing fortune. She was a very talented and 
clever young lady, and much sought after by the young swains every¬ 
where she went. The very idea of a young man not immediately 
falling for her and unconditionally surrendering himself was indeed 
a surprise and also a shock—to her pride and vanity. 

“How dare he play with me and then laff at me!” Velden 
exclaimed to herself that night when Kumdon hurried away and did 
not even deign to answer that last question. 

Velden studied herself long and critically in the big full-length 
French mirror, stamped her dainty No. 3 foot, and her glorious eyes 
just stormed and flashed like a volcano in active eruption. 

“I will just make it a point to call on Captain Stephens and 
get acquainted with Yulvern, and then I may get an answer to the 
last question I fired after Kumdon,” said Velden; and a look of 
determination steadied her wonderful eyes until they appeared like 
twin Gibraltars. 

Velden never realized how difficult it would be to call on the 
Captain without a proper excuse and errand. She could not just 
tell him point-blank that she wanted Kumdon and that the Captain’s 
niece must give him up—oh, no! that would never do. She must 
use diplomacy. 

On Wednesday Velden was up early, and had her hair beauti¬ 
fully dressed and herself all dolled-up in her most becoming dress— 
a soft gray trimmed with a little autum-leaf red, and a deep red rose 


250 


RED KLOVER. 


in her dusky hair—no jewelry. She was indeed a picture of girlish 
loveliness and rare beauty. 

“Ah! I see you are all dolled-up, my child,” called the Doctor 
when he came home Wednesday evening, “and that reminds me 
that I have an engagement with that young reporter to-night.” 

“You mean, grampum, that we have an engagement with Mr. 
Spry,” said Velden; and she came and wound her pretty arms 
around the old man’s neck and gently kissed him. 

“Oh! and so that’s the way the cat is jumping,” said the Doc¬ 
tor; and he patted Velden’s pretty head and kissed her. “Well, 
Kumdon is a mighty fine young man, Velden,” continued the 
Doctor; “and if you all decide to hitch up, your granddad will 
bestow his blessing.” 

“Oh, grampum!” exclaimed Velden, “you are just a darling! 
No wonder I love you so.” 

Then Velden went to the piano and began to play the song 
that Kumdon had first sung for them, and she was pouring out her 
whole soul thru the beautiful and stirring words when the old-fash¬ 
ioned knocker resounded thruout the house. It indicated impa¬ 
tience and youth; and Velden knew who it was, for she beat the 
Doctor to the door by several beats and flung it wide and exclaimed: 

“Good evening, Kumdon! Kum right in. Grampum is wait¬ 
ing for you; and I have a colored bird to pick with you.” Then 
she gave him both her pretty hands and he continued to keep pos¬ 
session of them, and the Doctor had to shake hands with Kumdon’s 
elbow. 

“Now, Velden,” said the Doctor, “if you are going to dissect 
our guest again, just wait till I go and get some ether. We might 
just as well be humane and make it comfortable for him.” 

“Oh, thank you, Doctor!” said Kumdon. “It looks as tho I 
shall need the dream-stuff to-night.” Then, addressing the lady, he 
continued: “Velden, I feel quite flattered that you have learned my 
song and can sing it so beautifully. Won’t you humor me by play¬ 
ing and singing it?” and he gave her a look that should only have 
been used on Yulvern. 

“With pleasure and all my vocal cords,” said Velden. Then 
she played and sang it with a depth of feeling and a wild-flower 
beauty that even astonished her grandfather and carried Kumdon 
away up . beyond the snow-line, for he shuddered and gasped and 
was profuse with his praise and compliments. The girl was su- 


A STRANGE CASE. 


251 

premely happy, for she had sung his song and outdone the author 
and won his unstinted praise. 

Just then the old family servant announced dinner; and Kum- 
don politely offered his arm to Velden, and the Doctor and Evangel¬ 
ine brought up the rear. The dinner was an excellent one, and 
they were all in a hungry and happy mood and did full justice to it. 
Velden and Kumdon just sparkled with wit and brilliant repartee, 
and the Doctor and Evangeline could scarcely get a word in edge¬ 
ways. 

“Now, grampum,” said Velden at the close of the feast, “I 
warn you that you must not keep Kumdon up there in that old 
den of horrors more than an hour, for I have a million things to say 
to him;” and she looked over at the boy appealingly. 

“I thank you, Miss Saun—I mean Velden,” said Kumdon; 
“but if you knew how much I enjoy the Doctor’s company and his 
rare stories, you would not call his interesting study a ‘ den of hor¬ 
rors.’ It is the most charming place in Cincinnati—that hasn’t 
the good fortune to be graced by your charming society;” and he 
rose and made a very low and mock bow with both hands on his 
heart. 

Velden’s eyes flashed a sarcastic reply, but the Doctor cut them 
short. 

“Now, my boy,” said the Doctor, “if you feel equal to the 
task, we will hie away to that ‘den of horrors’ and resume ^ur 
seance.” 

“I am quite ready, Doctor; lead the way,” replied Kumdon. 
Then, turning to Velden, he said: “Ta, ta, Miss Sarcasm; au revoir .” 

“You had better make it au revoir , you Indian,” replied Vel¬ 
den; and she flashed him a look that would make a wooden cigar 
sign want to go swimming in the Muskingum River. 

“Take the big rocker over there, my son,” said the Doctor when 
they reached his “den,‘’ “and you will be more comfortable. Help 
youself to the Havanas while I get my old briar going, and then we 
will lift the curtain and I will introduce you to the same company of 
artists we had before. 

“It was on the twelfth of June of the same year and about 
three weeks after Mrs. Verndon had called on me for my opinion 
of her husband’s strange mental malady, if it can be called such, 
when she came again, and she was about as excited as before, only 
this time it was more the exaltation of joy than of fear and dread,” 
continued the Doctor. 


252 


RED KLOVER. 


“‘Good afternoon, Doctor Saunders. I am here to bother you 
again, you see;’ and she stepped in and gave me her dainty white 
hand, and with it a grasp that was a whole dictionary. ” 

“Excuse the interruption, Doctor,” said Kumdon; “but isn’t 
such an ailment a malady?” 

“Well, I hardly know. You see, he is in perfect health and 
absolutely sane in each identity, and as there is no other case like 
it, we can’t exactly classify it. He is perfectly normal in each iden¬ 
tity, and the only thing that might .be termed an abnormality 
would be the wonderful changes thru which he passes and the com¬ 
plete amnesia that follows each transition! But a change, unless it 
is followed by and accompanied with abnormal actions, can hardly 
be termed a malady or a delusion.” And the good Doctor looked 
as tho he were not quite certain about his own lucidity and sanity. 

“I thank you, Doctor,” said Kumdon. “I am now about as 
clear on that point as you are and that will be sufficient for my 
story. The more uncanny and outlandish it is the better.” 

“Right you are, my boy; right you are,” said the Doctor; and 
he refilled his pipe and then consulted his memoranda and pro¬ 
ceeded with his strange tale:' 

“ ‘Doctor,’ continued Mrs. Verndon, ‘ my sister and her huband, 
Mr. Curtis, arrived day before yesterday and are going to stay and 
be our guests about ten days, and then papa and I are going with 
them to the seashore for a month or longer. They both look fine 
and are the happiest pair I ever saw, and Luvele and Ulda are the 
happiest and finest pair of kids I ever saw. They both are crazy 
about Rambert already and he is daffy about them and he and Lu¬ 
vele are inseparable; and the first thing Ulda asked was: “Oh, 
papal he’s my little brother, isn’t he?” and she just threw her 
arms around Rambert and squeezed and loved him, and he took 
right up with her and calls her his big sister and Luvele his little 
sister. I never saw three such happy children; and they all are the 
living image of their father and he seems greatly puzzled about it. 
When he saw little Rambert the child ran to him and held out his 
arms and cried: “Daddy! daddy!” And then Jack took him up 
and said: “Bless his little heart! he looks just like Ulda and Lu¬ 
vele and one would take him to be their brother.” Then he kissed 
the child and tossed him in the air, and the little fellow just screamed 
with delight. I thot my nerves would desert me and I feared I 
would faint, but Velcie came to my rescue just in time by saying: 
“Come to Aunt Velcie, Rambert. Uncle Jack is tired;” and she 


A STRANGE CASE . 


253 


held out her arms to him and he went to her and proceeded to love 
and play with her. It pleased me greatly to see that she was just 
as fond of Rambert as I was of her little girl. 

“ ‘Jack remembers papa as the man he met in St. Louis, but 
not as the one who was his father-in-law back in Louisville. He 
remembers everything connected with each identity only while in 
that identity; but the thing that puzzles him most is the remark¬ 
able resemblance between the three children. He can’t understand 
it at all and we don’t try to explain it to him. 

“ ‘We dine at 6 o’clock this evening, Doctor, and we hope to 
have the honor of your presence.’ 

“ ‘Very well, Mrs. Verndon,’ I said; ‘I will be on hand; and 
please arrange the table so I sit opposite Mr. Curtis, for in that way 
I can study him better; and I want you to sit next to me, and Vel- 
cie can sit by her husband; and I want Rambert and Luvele be¬ 
tween you and me.’ 

“ ‘All right, Doctor,’ replied Mrs. Verndon; ‘everything shall 
be arranged as you suggest.’ Then she gave me her hand, smiled 
her gratitude, and departed. 

“I arrived an hour before the dinner hour, as I wished to have 
a little time to talk with the different members of the family and 
size up Mr. Curtis—if I could. I was introduced as an old college 
chum of Mr. Vangive’s and as a Johns Hopkins man, thinking that 
fact might dent Jack’s amnesia, but it did not. 

“ ‘Mr. Curtis, I understand you are from Baltimore,’ I said. 

‘ Y-e-s, originally,’ he replied, ‘but it has been so long ago that I re¬ 
member very little about the place;’ and he seemed far away in his 
thots. ‘I am pretty much in the same boat,’ I said. ‘I took my 
degree at that place—Johns Hopkins, but it has been so long ago 
I fancy I am rather rusty about the old town. I don’t suppose you 
ever attended the great university there?’ ‘Well—n-o, not exactly; 
but I had a school chum who graduated from that college,’ he said, 
‘and he and I roomed together all one winter while he was finishing 
his education there, and he was always talking about the place and 
its professors. I was clerking in an engineer’s office at the time 
and was present when he got his sheepskin;’ and he continued to 
have that far-away expression in his eyes. 

“ ‘Your friend and chum was a doctor?’ asked Vangive before 
I could come back. ‘Oh, yes! Dr.—Dr.—what was that name of 
Ralph’s?’ asked Jack; and he looked tired and seemed excited. 
‘Ralph! Was that his first name?’ asked Velcie, and she almost 


254 


RED KLOVER. 


leaped to her feet. ‘Calm yourself, dear,’ replied Jack; ‘what dif¬ 
ference does it make what the poor chap’s name was ? ’ and he looked 
across and said something to Ulda. 

“ ‘My old friend and college chum, Robert Holmes,’ I resumed, 
‘had a very promising son named Ralph—yes, Ralph Edgerton 
Holmes, and I understood that his father intended to send him to 
Johns Hopkins. I wonder if it could be possible?’ ‘That was his 
name!’ exclaimed Jack, with considerable warmth; ‘Ralph E. 
Holmes; but the poor chap was drowned soon after quitting col¬ 
lege and locating somewhere in Indiana. I had entirely forgotten 
about Ralph till you all recalled his name. And so you and his 
father were in college together?’ and Jack looked at me with mild 
interest. 

“ ‘What kind of looking chap was this Ralph Holmes?’ asked 
Velcie, and she turned and looked her husband straight in the eyes, 
and the rest of us watched his face closely. ‘Oh! about my size/ 
answered Jack, ‘only not quite so tall, and about two years my 
junior, and very fond of reading novels, and fell for every pretty 
girl he met. But why are you so interested in him? You never 
met him.’ ‘N-o,’ answered Velcie; ‘but I had a girl chum who 
married him, I think, or at least another Ralph E. Holmes, and I 
thot that possibly her husband might be your old friend and chum;’ 
and she smiled sweetly at him and then turned to me with a puzzled 
look. ‘N-o,’ replied Jack; ‘they couldn’t be the same, for my old 
friend was drowned soon after locating in Fort Wayne, Indiana; 
and he never married.’ 

“I changed the subject, as I did not wish to have Jack ques¬ 
tioned any farther along that line. 

“The rest of the meal passed off quietly and we were all in a 
happy mood at its close. Vangive, Jack, and myself enjoyed our 
cigars for about twenty minutes after dinner, and then joined the 
ladies in the sitting-room. 

“ ‘I understand you are a musician, Mr. Curtis,’ I said to Jack, 
and politely asked him to play the banjo, which I handed him. To 
my astonishment, he took the instrument and played it as tho the 
old Nick were in his nimble fingers. Then he asked Mrs. Verndon 
to sing and play on the piano; she readily complied with his re¬ 
quest and played and sang the song he first played for her, and she 
put her whole soul in it and sang it with such power and pathos he 
jumped to his feet and declared it reminded him of something. Then 
he pressed his temples with both hands and sat in deep meditation 


A STRANGE CASE. 


255 


for a few minutes. ‘It is strange/ he mused, more to himself than 
to any of us, ‘but it just won’t quite come back. And your voice 
sounds so much like hers—the one who sang it for me;’ and he 
went to the piano and gently placed his hand on her shoulders and 
sighed. 

“It was a tense moment, and we all expected to see him change 
back to La Salle Verndon again, but he did not. Wo thot that Vel- 
cie would faint or scream, but by an extra effort she controlled her¬ 
self. I was watching every expression on Jack’s face, but could 
make nothing out of it. 

“Then he offered his arm to Mrs. Verndon and led her over to 
where Velcie was sitting between Luvele and Ulda; he offered his 
other arm to Velcie and said: ‘Let’s stroll thru the grounds for 
awhile—just us three.’ We were all astounded at this peculiar freak, 
but I motioned for all of us to remain behind and not follow them. 

“After they were gone, Mr. Vangive looked at me and said: 
‘Well?’ ‘A hole in the ground—a blank wall, or any other old 
thing you may like,’ I replied. ‘It’s got my Nancy animal, and 
is an extreme case of memralj—whatever that is.’ ‘The case is the 
champion goat-getter,’ returned Mr. Vangive, ‘and I have long 
ago given it up.’ 

“Jack escorted his two wives about the grounds for about ten 
minutes and then he seated them on a settee and quietly sat down 
between them. He looked first at one and then the other, and 
finally put his arms around their shoulders and remarked, appar¬ 
ently to himself: ‘I have the most beautiful and wonderful wife and 
sister in all the world and I am very proud of them.’ Then he gave 
Loree a reverent kiss on her forehead and turned and planted a real 
lover’s sweetheart kiss on Velcie’s waiting lips; then he squeezed 
them both to him and just sighed. Poor Loree was ready to faint, 
but she knew she must play her part to the end in this strange 
drama. 

“After a few minutes of silence, Jack looked up and asked Vel¬ 
cie to go and bring the children to him. She departed at once on 
her errand, and Loree exclaimed: 

i “ ‘Oh, La Salle, dear! don’t you know me—your own wife— 
Loree?’ and she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him 
passionately. 

“‘Why, sister Loree, I’m your brother Jack—I’m not your 
husband; and why do you call me La Salle?’ 

“ ‘Never mind, dear brother Jack,’ replied Loree. ‘I once had 


RED KLOVER. 


256 

a brother by the name of La Salle and he was so much like you—I 
forgot. Please forgive me;’ and she turned her face up to his, with 
her soul in her eyes. 

“‘Of course you are forgiven, dear,’ said Jack; and then he 
gently kissed her on the cheek and immediately changed the subject. 

“They were discussing one of the rare plants in the yard when 
Velcie came with the children. They all ran to him and climbed on 
his lap and proceeded to love and pet him. He put his arms around 
them and squeezed them for a minute or two, and then turned to 
Loree and Velcie and asked point-blank: 

“ ‘ I want you two women to explain to me -why all three of 
these dear children look so like me and so greatly resemble one an¬ 
other;’ and he looked from one to the other, and they had hard 
work to control themselves sufficiently to reply at all. 

“ ‘Well, dear husband,’ finally said Velcie, ‘it puzzles all of us 
as much as it does you, but we have no explanation.’ 

“Then he turned to Loree and asked: ‘What is your explana¬ 
tion, sister?’ 

“‘I have none, brother Jack,’ she replied. ‘It just puzzles 
me like it does all of us;’ and she turned to Velcie for relief. 

“ ‘My dear husband, what difference does it make anyway?’ 
said Velcie. ‘We have got all three of them and we love them all 
and wouldn’t take the world for them;’ affid she reached over and 
pressed his hand lovingly. 

“ ‘But I am wondering if they could possibly be mine, and if so, 
why I don’t know anything about it and never saw Luvele and 
Rambert till you all came to the theater in St. Louis;’ and again 
he faced them both and sought an answer in their faces. 

“‘Why, brother Jack,’ said Loree, ‘if Luvele and Rambert 
were your children, you would certainly know it, wouldn’t you?’ 
and she again searched his soul thru his eyes; but there was no answer. 

“ ‘ Dear, we will have Ulda and Luvele with us all the time,’ con¬ 
tinued Velcie, ‘and when we are here with Loree and Father Van- 
give, or when they are visiting us, we will also have Rambert—bless 
his little heart!’ she exclaimed as the boy climbed up on her lap at the 
mention of his name, ‘and that ought to make you happy;’ and she 
laid her pretty head over on his breast and sighed happily, while 
little Rambert continued to love and squeeze his ‘Tant Velcie.’ 

“ ‘I suppose so, but that doesn’t explain anything,’ said Jack; 
and he looked disappointed and more puzzled than ever. 

“Then they returned to the house with the children, and found 


A STRANGE CASE. 


257 


me and Mr. yangive in the midst of a game of chess. When they 
left we had discussed the case a little, but could make no headway 
at solving it. I told Mr. Vangive there was nothing we doctors 
could do, and I suggested that they just quietly watch him closely, 
and let the case take its own natural course. I felt sure he would 
soon change back to La Salle Verndon again and so informed Mr. 
Vangive. ‘As soon as the change comes he will go back to his home 
where he lived as La Salle Verndon and hunt up Loree and Ram¬ 
bert/ I said; ‘and if he should change to Dr. Holmes first, he will 
hike out to Baton Rouge and seek Velcie and Luvele there; in fact, 
there is no way of knowing to which of his other identities he will 
go next, but it will be to them again in their turn and then back to 
Jack Curtis again—if he lasts that long.’ 

‘ ‘Is he likely to die very soon?’ asked Mr. Vangive in some 
surprise. 

“ ‘There is no way of telling definitely, but my judgment would 
give him less than six years, and he will most likely pass out as 
Jack Curtis,’ I answered. ‘Still I have my doubts about his real 
name being Curtis, but as that is his first identity after forgetting 
his original self, he is most likely to wind up in that identity.’ 

“After I departed, Mr. Vangive reported what I had told him 
to Loree, and she also reported what happened out in the grounds that 
evening. 

“The next morning Mr. Vangive persuaded Jack to take a lit¬ 
tle spin with him into town to do a little shopping, and that gave 
Velcie and Loree a chance to compare notes. Velcie was greatly 
excited when she learned that I had only given him about six years, 
to live and had predicted three more changes in that time* 

“ ‘But, dear,’ said Loree, ‘the Doctor seems sure he will pass 
out as Jack Curtis and that will give him to you at the finish;’ and 
Loree put her arms around the distracted girl in a comforting way. 
‘The Doctor feels sure he will return to La Salle Verndon next, and 
then to Dr. Holmes, and then back to Jack Curtis—for the last act.’ 

“They both sighed logether, and renewed their pledge to abide 
by the decrees of Fate and to stand by each other and help him 
all they could. 

“ ‘I shall keep my home here in readiness, so when the change 
comes he will find everything just as he left it,’ said Loree; ‘and if 
the change comes while we are all traveling or down at the seaside, 
I can get back here about as soon as he can. Besides, I shall leave a 
note here on the table for him in case he gets back here first; the 


258 


RED KLOVER. 


note will merely say that I am spending the night with a nabor, 
-and for him to make himself at home and wait.’ 

“ ‘But what if he should change to Dr. Holmes first and lights 
out for our little nest in Baton Rouge?’ asked Velcie, with a look 
of dread in her eyes. ‘If the Baton Rouge papers have seen the 
account of my marriage in the St. Louis papers, they would be sure 
to copy it, and it would be some mix-up for him to go back there 
lroking for his wife, who had long ago married another man. Umph! 
but wouldn’t that be a rich and dainty morsel for Mam’sel Grun¬ 
dy’s delicate palate.?” and the poor girl shuddered at the mere con¬ 
templation of it. 

“ ‘Well, sister mine, it is no use to cross bridges before we 
come to them,’ said Loree philosophically. ‘If he does change to 
Dr. Holmes, we will have to meet the dilemma in some way. It 
is possible that the papers there have not heard of your marriage 
to Jack Curtis, and if they have, we will have to manage it some 
way. We can watch him so closely he can’t get much the start of 
us anyway, and it will be an easy matter to head him off, no matter 
where he is bound for; so we won’t worry about the case any more. 

“ ‘When you all return to St. Louis and resume your playing 
in the stock company, father will remain here with me and Rambert, 
and if he disappears from you, wire us immediately, so we can be 
looking for him. If he doesn’t show up promptly, we’ll send a wire 
to Mrs. Gordon, your next-door nabor in Baton Rouge, and ask her 
if he has returned there looking for you, and if he has, to try and 
detain him there till you arrive. If he changes while we are at the 
seashore, I will hasten back here, and you can burn up the rails 
getting back to Baton Rouge. Now that we understand the case 
and know what to expect, we can manage it much better,’ said Loree. 

“Mr. Vangive and Jack soon returned, and Mr. Vangive re¬ 
ported that he and Jack had a fine time and enjoyed the ride. ‘He 
seemed as rational as anyone,’ reported Mr. Vangive, ‘and his spir¬ 
its were fine and his outlook hopeful. He was very enthusiastic 
about his wife’s wonderful acting, and thot that Ulda would soon 
be a star of the first magnitude; and as for Luvele, he felt sure she 
would eclipse them all and go even beyond the top—when she was 
old enuff.’ 

“The next evening they were all my guests at a dinner and 
card party: and when Jack saw my granddauter and heard her 
play and sing, he seemed strangely affected and watched her closely 
all the evening, and when he and she had played and sung together, 


A STRANGE CASE . 


259 

he took her hands in his and remarked: ‘Wonderful girl! Remark¬ 
able child! Which one of the gods was your father?’ 

“Velden considered that he was poking fun at her and made 
a saucy retort and then sprang away from him. He looked after 
her with a pained expression on his face, and came to me and asked: 
‘Where did you get her, Doctor?’ 

“I told him she was my only son’s child—my beloved grand- 
dauter, but that she had a four-edged tongue. He still looked at 
her and wrinkled his forehead in a puzzled way, and presently asked: 
‘Wasn’t her father’s name Harold Briggs Saunders?’ 

“I almost jumped in the air, for that was my son’s name in full. 
‘Why, did you know my son?’ I said excitedly. 

“‘Know him? Humph!’ he briefly replied; then he shrug¬ 
ged his shapely shoulders and calmly walked to the piano, and for 
the next hour we never heard such divine and wonderful music in 
all our lives. He imitated perfectly almost every instrument and 
bird and animal; he did stunts that his wives never even knew he 
could do. We all sat and listened spell-bound, and I am sure Velden 
regarded him as some strange and uncanny creature from some 
other world. The child was really afraid of him and yet she could 
not keep away from him nor cease looking at him. None of us 
knew what might happen next, but we were all ready for it—no 
matter how strange it might be. 

“After my guests had departed, Velden hurried to me and ex¬ 
claimed:' ‘Oh, grampum! what kind of a strange man is he?’ 

“ ‘Not strange, dear,’ I said; ‘just a wonderful actor and 
musician.’ 

“ ‘But, grampum,’ said Velden, ‘I often meet him in my dreams, 
and he always looks at me that way and plays and sings like he did 
to-night. I don’t believe in dreams, of course, but now—I don’t 
know what I believe;’ and she looked bewildered, and her eyes had 
something uncanny about them. 

“ ‘Jhere, there, dear,’ I said; ‘run along to bed now, for it is 
late, and those pretty eyes won’t get their beauty sleep;’ and I 
pinched "her cheeks and gave her the usual good-night kiss; but 
she did not want to leave me—she wanted to talk about Jack. I 
just had to make her go to bed.” 

“What is the explanation of the girl’s strange conduct, Doctor?” 
asked Kumdon, who showed a strange interest in the case. 

“Search me, Mr. Spry,” said the Doctor. “It seemed that the 
whole world had gone daffy. 


26 o 


RED KLOVER. 


“The next day I was again a guest of Mr. Vangive’s. We 
played tennis most of the forenoon, and after playing for about an 
hour, Mr. Curtis remarked to me wearily: ‘Doctor, I ? m awfully 
tired. I wish I could go home. , 

“ ‘Well, what is to prevent it?’ I asked in some surprise. 

“‘I don’t just know what it is. Doctor,’ replied Mr. Curtis; 
‘but there is something pulling me in four directions at the same 
time, and I can’t get anywhere;’ and he sighed heavily again and 
involuntarily turned his gaze toward the east, and I noticed that his 
eyes had a very excited and strange appearance, and it was evident 
that he was having a hard struggle with something within. He 
gazed longingly toward the east a few minutes, and then resumed 
his playing, but it was plain to see that he had lost all interest in 
the game. He now played like one in a deep trance, but he made 
no mistakes. He was an expert at tennis, just like he was at music 
and everything else. He was an interesting study and had a strange 
fascination for me. 

“I felt sure that some impending crisis was about to take place, 
and at the first opportunity I communicated my impressions to his 
wives. They were both inwardly excited and doing their best to 
keep their nerves in leash. The remainder of the day he seemed in 
a deep study and at times almost oblivious to his surroundings. 

“That afternoon we all attended a matinee at a roof-garden 
and after the second act Jack asked me to accompany him to the 
smoking-room, and when alone we lighted our cigars and proceed¬ 
ed to enjoy the fumes of the tobacco, when he suddenly turned to 
me and, asked: ‘Doctor, who is Velden anyway?’ and he fixed his 
uncanny eyes on me and just looked as tho he would bore right thru 
my soul. 

“ ‘Why, she’s my graaddauter—my son Harold’s only child,’ 
1 replied, and I looked almost offended and had hard work con¬ 
trolling my rising indignation at the insolence of the question; but 
I remembered that he was my patient and under observation, so 
I just laffed it off pleasantly. 

“‘Humph!’ he said. ‘I may tell you something about her 
some day—ah! there goes the curtain; we must hurry;’ and he 
was up and pulling me along after him. 

“We returned to our seats just in time; and both of the women 
shot me an inquiring glance. 

“The remainder of the afternoon passed without incident; and 


A STRANGE CASE. 


261 

in two more days we were all on our way to Newport for a season. 
I was taken along as the guest of Mr. Vangive and Mrs. Verndon. 

“Jack was very friendly toward me, but he seemed to sense 
that I was there for a purpose. One afternoon he and I were 
strolling along the beach and chatting pleasantly, when he sud¬ 
denly asked: ‘Doctor, why did you come here with us?’ and again 
those weird and uncanny eyes bored me thru and, thru. 

“ ‘Why, Mr. Vangive and Mrs. Verridon invited, me to come 
along as their guest, and as Mr. Vangive and I were school-chums 
together, I came just because I was going somewhere for the season, 
and thot it would be a pleasant way to renew our old school-days*, 
etc./ I replied casually. 

“Again he uttered that suspicious ‘Humph!’ and we returned 
to the hotel and joined the ladies and children. 

“We had all been at Newport about three weeks, arid every¬ 
thing was just going as nicely as one could wish, when one Friday 
morning soon after breakfast Jack said casually: ‘I am going for 
a short stroll with Rambert, and when we return we will go in for 
a dip; so you all enjoy yourselves till we return.’ He took Ram¬ 
bert by the hand, and the two went tripping down the broad 
gravel walk like a couple of school-kids. The little fellow was 
very fond of Jack, and he was now in high spirits because he had 
been specially selected for the walk alone with the actor. Luvele 
was just heart-broken because he would not let her go along. 

“Loree and Velcie exchanged looks and then glanced at me signi¬ 
ficantly, but I just nodded that it was all right, and we had better not 
follow him. After an hour, the women became so nervous with dread 
apprehension that Mrs. Verndon declared she was going to search 
for them. Mr. Vangive arid I tried to dissu-ade her, but she just 
couldn’t stand tjie nervous strain any longer, so she strolled off in 
,the direction Jack had taken, and in about an hour she returned 
looking like a ghost and declared she could not find any trace of 
them. 

“ ‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Velcie in terror; ‘suppose he has 
drowned himself and the child? ’ 

“ ‘Oh, Doctor! what shall we dp?’ exclaimed Loree in almost 
the same breath. 

“Both women were becoming hysterical in spite of all that Mr. 
Vangive' and I could do to calm them. 

“‘He has probably just wardered off into the country,’ said 


262 


RED KLOVER. 


Mr. Vangive soothingly, ‘and they will turn up all right after a 
while.’ 

“The story soon ran thru the hotel and was at once the one 
topic of conversation. Jack had become very popular with the 
guests on account of some wonderful singing and playing he did in 
the parlors on two occasions. A searching party was soon organ¬ 
ized and spreiad out in every direction, while others watched the 
shore and life-boats began to patrol the coast for a chance to find 
the bodies in case they had been drowned. The day passed away 
in searching, but not a trace could be found of the actor and his 
child. Of course, it was not known to the guests that the child was 
the actor’s son, but there had been much comment and specula¬ 
tion on the subject, owing to the remarkable resemblance the boy 
bore to the man. 

“Mrs. Verndon became so hysterical that I had to administer a 
hypodermic of morphine to quiet her. We all hurriedly held a 
consultation late that night, and it was decided to send Mrs. Vern¬ 
don and her father to Cincinnati at once, in case he was there as 
La Salle Verndon trying to find Mrs. Verndon. Velcie and the two 
little girls and myself were to remain there, in case he returned to 
the hotel. I had the time of my life to keep the distracted double 
wife and mother from breaking down or going mad. I told her that 
he might return there any time, and she must bear up under it, so as 
to be ready to receive him in case he returned. The brave little 
soul sure did a big and successful job holding onto herself and look¬ 
ing after the children. The little girls were inconsolable, for they 
both worshiped their father, and Ulda was old enough to compre¬ 
hend that something very strange and unusual had happened to her 
father. 

“It was a rich topic for the guests and they differed in their 
opinions just as they would on religion or politics. 

“A description of Jack was wired to the police of the other 
watering-places and large cities, but no trace of him could be found. 
It seemed as if the earth had just swallowed him whole and hadn’t 
made a bit of noise about the act. 

“In about ten days Velcie received'the following wire: 

“ ‘Cincinnati, July 26, 18—. 

“ ‘He is here and unhurt. Rambert is all right. Look for my 
letter. Loree. ’ 


A STRANGE CASE . 


263 


“She handed it to me as soon as she read it, and I simply gave 
out that Mr. Curtis had been found and was all right and so was 
the child. That was all the guests were to be told; and when one 
so far forgot the laws of good breeding as to try to find out more, 
we simply turned such an ill-bred person down politely and let it 
go at that; and when Velcie turned them down with a look, they 
stayed turned down, too. One look from her wonderful eyes was 
enuff—and to spare; so the incident soon became history and be¬ 
gan to accumulate cobwebs—like all history does. 

“About a week later Velcie received the following letter from 
Loree: 

“ ‘Cincinnati, August 2, 18—. 

“ ‘My dear Sister Velcie, —He is now La Salle Verndon 
again and very sick, but has no memory whatever of any other 
identity. He remembers papa as the man he knew as his father- 
in-law, but remarked one day: “It is strange, Father Vangive, 
but I have a dim recollection of seeing someone who very much re¬ 
sembled you, but I just can’t recall where it was. Perhaps you 
have a twin brother someplace?” “Yes, I have,” said papa, “and 
it is possible that you have met himN “Yes, I presume that is 
it,” said La Salle. Then he forgot all about the incident. 

“ ‘We got here two days before he arrived, and he could not 
account for having Rambert with him; he merely said he did not 
remember how the child happened to be with him. He seemed just 
as glad to see me as ever, and seems as rational as anyone. We 
have met quite a few of our old friends and he remembers some of 
them, but others he fails to recognize. He seemed on the point of 
a complete breakdown when he arrived here, and he spent the fol¬ 
lowing three days in bed most of the time. 

“ ‘A peculiar thing is that he won’t touch any of the musical 
instruments at all, and declares he never played at all; but he sings 
a great deal, but mostly songs I never heard him sing before and 
most of them are entirely unknown to us. Isn’t it strange, dear? 

“ ‘I am awfully sorry, Velcie, but the only thing for me to do 
is to enjoy the brief heaven while it is mine; and if he returns to 
you, I will patiently stand aside and help you both all I can. 

“ ‘Poor little Rambert was so tickled to see me again; and the 
child surely did need a woman’s care and attention. La Salle is 
becoming more cheerful every day, and plays a great deal with 
Rambert. 


264 


RED KLOVER. 


“ ‘Another strange thing is, La Salle won’t go to a theater at 
all. And he refuses coffee; he used to be so fond of it and always 
drank two or three cups of it. What next? 

“ ‘What will you do now? Papa and I think it will be best 
for you to return here and live quietly near us, but where La Salle 
will not meet you, so that we can all help in watching him closely, 
for we do not know when he may change to Dr. Holmes again. I 
should like Dr. Saunders’ opinion on this point. Papa has a neat 
little five-room cottage that has just been completed, and if you 
will come, we will have things ready for you. Wire at once if you 
will come. 

“ ‘With love and all good wishes for you and the dear children, 
“ ‘I am your sister, Loree.’ 

“After perusing it carefully, and with tears in her beautiful 
eyes, Velcie handed the letter to me and softly sobbed while I read 
it over carefully twice. 

“ ‘Well, what do you think I should do now, Doctor?’ she asked; 
and her great soul-saddened eyes looked almost supernatural as she 
watched my face. 

“ ‘Well^,’ I replied, ‘I feel almost certain that he will sooner or 
later return to Dr. Holmes, or possibly skip Holmes and go directly 
back to Curtis again, or possibly to his real identity, for the con¬ 
viction is growing on me that he may go back to his real, original 
self. And I am of the opinion that he was never married under 
his own identity.’ 

“‘Why, Doctor! is it possible?’ asked Velcie. 

“ ‘Yes, almost anything is possible to this strange soul with 
three windows in it,’ I answered. 

“ ‘Well,’ said Velcie, ‘I will go and wire them that I will come 
back there and live near them, so as to be ready in case he returns 
to either Holmes or Curtis, for in that case I should be on hand to 
head him off and prevent his wandering away down to Baton Rouge 
looking for me and Luvele.’ 

“ ‘Very well,’ I said; ‘that would be my judgment in the case; 
besides, I want to get back and study him now as La Salle Vern- 
don, and to see if he will recall having met me before.’ 

“Two days later we started for the Ohio metropolis; but as I 
had some business in New York, we stopped over there three days, 
and that gave Velcie an opportunity to see the nation’s metropolis 
and incidentally to divert her as much as possible, and to give the 


A STRANGE CASE. 26 5 

folks in Cincinnati time to furnish the cottage and have it ready 
for her when she arrived. 

“We soon reached Cincinnati, and Mr. Vangive met us at the 
stopo^and carried Velcie directly to the cottage. She was delighted 
wifth it. 

It was nearly three days before Loree could get away from 
her husband long enuff to slip over and pay Velcie and the chil¬ 
dren a visit and talk over the case. La Salle seemed strangely 
averse to letting Loree out of his sight for a minute—another 
strange freak he had developed. 

“In a couple of weeks Loree announced to her husband after 
breakfast: ‘Dear, an old friend and boyhood school-mate of papa’s 
is coming to dine with us to-night and I want you to be awfully nice 
to him.’ 

“ ‘Why, certainly; I will be pleased to meet any friends of 
yours or of Father Vangive’s,’ responded La Salle; ‘but who is the 
gentleman?’ 

“ ‘A Dr. Saunders—quite an elderly man, but very much of a 
scholar and quite an entertaining conversationalist,’ replied Loree. 

“‘Dr. Saunders? Dr. Saun—ders? Why, I met a Dr. Saun¬ 
ders in Baltimore when I was a boy; but he wouldn’t be quite my 
age, so it must be some other Saun—ders;’ and he seemed troubled 
about the name. Several times during the day he reverted to it 
and asked: ‘Dear, are you quite sure his name is Saun—ders?’ 

“‘Why, yes, La Salle,’ answered Loree; ‘but what difference 
does it make anyway?’ 

“ ‘Oh! none, I reckon,’ he said.” 

Chapter XII. 

AN ACCIDENTAL MEETING. 

“I was on hand eariy that night,” continued the Doctor, “fori 
wanted to have a chance to observe LaSalle a little before dinner and 
also to engage him in conversation and see if he recollected me, etc. 
Mr. Vangive met me at the door and whispered that he was quite 
normal, but greatly troubled about the name Saunders, asserting 
that he knew a man by that name in Baltimore when he was a 
boy in college. 

“ ‘Doctor,’ he said, ‘it has just recently occurred to me that La 
Salle met your son Harold in Baltimore and probably they had 
some misunderstanding—perhaps they both wanted the same girl, 


266 


RED KLOVER. 


as youngsters often do. This may explain his strange reply that 
he made to you the night you asked him if he knew your son. Do 
you recollect his sneering and noncommital answer and then his 
wonderful playing and singing? He may also have been a suitor 
for your son’s wife’s hand and was rejected by her in favor of your 
son.’ 

“‘Right you are,’ said I reflectively; ‘and my dauter-in-law 
may have marked Velden in some way prior to the child’s birth, 
and that may account for the strange interest she takes in the man 
and the uncanny fascination he exerts over her.’ 

“Then we both fell to thinking on the strange subject, but our 
conclusions were only conjectures at best. 

“Then we proceeded to the living-room, and Mr. Vangive for¬ 
mally presented me to Jack. He came forward and greeted me cor¬ 
dially and held onto my hand quite awhile and inquired: ‘Did you 
ever have a son at college in Baltimore, Doctor?’ and he couldn’t 
take his eyes offi my face it seemed. But he showed no signs of 
recognition. 

“ ‘Why, yes,’ I replied. ‘My son Harold attended Johns Hop¬ 
kins. It is possible that you and he met;’ and I searched him 
closely for any sign of remembering Harold. 

“‘I don t recall him now, but I may be able to do so later, 
and if I do, I may be able to tell you something interesting,’ was 
h’s answer; then he turned and hastened to Loree, who called him 
to help her with something or other in the dining-room. 

“ ‘Well, what do you make out of that enigmatical reply?’ 
asked Mr. Vangive, 

“ ‘Nothing much, and then it may be a rich mine,’ I replied. 
‘I feel sure that he and Harold have met and had some kind of a 
quarrel, because Harold met Milvern {his wife ) in Baltimore dur¬ 
ing his college days in Johns Hopkins, and it is quite possible that 
both young men were suitors for her hand. She may have met 
Jack first and loved him, and finding him queer, she gave him up 
and took Harold, and in such a case she would naturally think over 
her love-aSaiir with Jack and meditate more or less on his strange 
mental equipment and rare talents, and in that way she has marked 
her child and bequeathed it a rare musical talent; and as the mother 
naturally dreamed a great deal of her lost lover, so does Velden 
dream of him and sees him in her dreams, etc.’ 

“ ‘By the eternal, Doctor! you’ve hit it for fair, and I can see it 


A STRANGE CASE. 


267 


all now/ said Mr. Vangive. ‘If your diagnosis be true, Doctor, it 
also seems certain that his real original identity is different from 
any he has assumed—that is, that we know of.’ 

“ ‘Yes, that has been my opinion, since he has some recollec¬ 
tions of his college days in Baltimore and he seems greatly per¬ 
turbed at times because he is unable to recall them/ I continued. 
‘There is a dim and latent voice singing away back in his early life 
and he can’t quite still it and neither can he give it definite form 
and coherency; but there is something in his latent or subcon¬ 
scious mind that is struggling to be heard, and everything points to 
Baltimore as his early home or alma mater. He really may have 
been born in Newark, New Jersey, as he once told us he was, but it is 
more than likely he never went back there after quitting school in 
Baltimore; and it is my belief we will find his parents yet living, or, 
at least, his mother; and it is my opinion that his next change will 
be back to his real self, in which identity he will not know any of 
his other identities.’ 

“ ‘Great heavens, Doctor! is it possible?’exclaimed Mr. Van- 
give despairingly. ‘Just to think what that would mean to his two 
wives and three children! and they all worship him.’ 

“Just then Loree and La Salle came in together and announced 
that dinner was ready; so we all prpceeded to the dining-room and 
soon fell to discussing various subjects during the meal. 

“ Mr. Verndon, did I understand you to say that you were 
born in Newark, New Jersey?’ I asked casually. 

“ ‘Why—er—I really don’t remember, it was so long ago; but 
it seems at times that it was Baltimore/ he answered. ‘ I can’t re¬ 
call clearly which place it was; but what difference does it make 
anyway?’ and he fixed those weird and hypnotic eyes on my face 
and stared blankly at me until his wife distracted his attention to 
something else. 

“‘Oh! none,’ I hastened to reply, good-naturedly. ‘I have 
some friends in Newark and thot that possibly you might know 
them. ’ 

“ ‘If I was born in Newark, we left there when I was so young 
I don’t remember much about it/ he said. ‘But there is something 
and someone in Baltimore I have been trying to remember lately, 
but I just can’t quite get them out of my subconscious mind;’ and 
he looked at his wife and sighed deeply. 

“ ‘Never mind, La Salle; it will all come back to you some 


268 


RED KLOVER. 


time,’ murmured his wife affectionately. ‘Of course, if your dear 
mother is living, I should like to see her;’ and she laid her hand lov¬ 
ingly on his and gave him an encouraging look. 

“ ‘My mother! my mother!’ he almost screamed. ‘Yes, yes, 
she is living, if the hounds at the hospital didn’t kill her!’ and he 
left the table and paced up and down the room and kept muttering 
and moaning to himself; then he turned and came back to the table 
and remarked: ‘Doctor, I almost got her then.’ 

“‘Your mother?’ said Mr. Vangive. 

“ ‘Yes! y-e-s,’ he answered; ‘and our dear little home out on 
M—M Street. I must go and lie down for awhile,’ he announced, 
and immediately went up to his room. 

“We all exchanged glances and fell to discussing the new phase 
his case was taking, and we all felt sure now that he might recall 
his mother and boyhood home and change back to them, and thus 
forget all his other identities. 

“ ‘If he does do that, what will we all do, I wonder?’ mused 
Loree, more to herself than to us. 

“ ‘Doctor, don’t you think we had better watch the house and 
grounds closely to prevent him from leaving in case a change comes?’ 
asked his wife anxiously. 

“ ‘Yes. We must not let him slip away from us, for if he does, 
we may never find him again,’ said I. 

“ ‘And shouldn’t we inform Velcie at once about the new de¬ 
velopment that is imminent?’ asked Mr. Vangive. 

“ ‘Yes, I suppose so, as she is two of his wives and thus has 
double the interest in him that you have, Mrs. Verndon,’ I replied 
thotlessly, but saw my mistake at once. 

“ ‘Indeed, Doctor, this is hardly a subject for levity!’ she said, 
giving me a look that was worse than an upper-cut and a toe-hold 
all combined. 

“‘I beg pardon, madam,’ I said; ‘but I did not intend any 
levity, and I am sorry I have offended you. My language was ill- 
chosen—that is all.’ 

“‘Very well; I accept your apology,’ she said. ‘But no one 
could have more interest in my husband than I have—no matter 
how many times she might be married to him. He is my life-— 
my allV 

“Mr. Vangive was dispatched to break the news to Velcie, who 
lived about half a mile from the Verndons. She was not much 


A STRANGE CASE. 


269 

surprised, for she was expecting something to happen almost any 
time, but she had not expected this new turn in the case; still, noth¬ 
ing might come, of it, after all. ‘After a little rest and quiet, he may 
forget all about it/ I assured her. 

“ ‘But we must keep him under close and constant surveillance, 
Doctor, so if he changes we can have him followed and thus keep 
track of him/ said Velcie to me later that night. 

“I told her it was my opinion that his next change would come 
soon and would most likely take him back to his mother and his 
real self. 

“‘Wouldn’t that be the limit, Doctor?’ Velcie asked. ‘If he 
goes back to his real self, won’t he ever again return to any of his 
other identities?’ and a look of hope sprang to her beautiful eyes 
as she faced me resolutely. 

“‘I can’t be sure about that,’ I told her, ‘because medical 
science never had a case of memralj before; but it is my guess that 
he will never return to any of his pseudo-identities, because he is 
not likely to live long after he returns to his original self/ I replied 
as kindly as I could. 

“‘Oh, Doctor!’ she exclaimed, ‘it is awful to contemplate 
the end; but still I guess he would be better off dead and thus have 
it all over with. Anyway, I would rather know he was dead and 
beyond all suffering and trouble than to have him in an asylum; ’ 
and she sighed resignedly and looked at me hopelessly. 

“ c Yes, that would be best for all of you, I presume/ I said; 
‘for this awful uncertainty and nervous strain will soon break you 
all down and make wrecks of you/ 

“ £ But I love him so, Doctor; I just cannot let him go;’ and her 
eyes clouded like the thick smoke from a volcano. 

“ ‘I know it is a sad thing to lose the one you love, Velcie, but 
it is a fate that comes to all of us sooner or later/ said I consolingly. 

“Then I bade her good-night, and drove Mr. Vangive back to 
the Verndon home. 

“The next day Velcie and the children called on me at my of¬ 
fice and she wanted to know if it would be all right for her and the 
children to meet him and see if he remembered them. I advised 
against this, and she promised to abide by my decision. 

“About two weeks later Velcie and Luvele and Ulda were out 
in a near-by park for exercise and an airing, when they ran plump 
into La Salle. How he ever managed to elude Loree and Mr. Van- 


270 


RED KLOVER. 


give and the two servants is still a mystery to us all, but he did so 
and went for a stroll alone, and was crossing the pretty little park 
near the fountain when he met Velcie and the children. He seemed 
astonished at meeting them; and when Velcie forgot all my in¬ 
structions and ran to him with arms outstretched and exclaimed, 
‘Oh, Jack, my darling husband! I am so glad I have found you!’ 
and tried to put her arms around him, he pushed her away and said 
rather angrily: ‘Excuse me, madam, but I don’t happen to be 
your husband—in fact, I never saw you before. But how in h —1 
does it come that you have my little dauter with you?’ and he 
stooped and picked up Luvele, and she just threw her little arms 
around his neck and clung to him and called him ‘Papa Jack.’ 

“Then Ulda came up to him and addressed him as ‘Papa,’ but 
he just frowned at her in a puzzled way and said: ‘It seems that 
you people are crazy. Here you claim I am your husband and this 
girl of yours calls me father. Why, I can’t understand it at all. And 
how did you get hold of my little dauter Elvie? ’ 

“‘Oh, Jack dear! don’t you remember me—and Ulda here?’ 
asked Velcie. 

“ ‘I never saw you before, I tell you,’ he replied. ‘Come on, 
Elvie; we must be going;” and he turned and deliberately strode 
away with Luvele in his arms. The child clung to him, but began 
to cry and weep. ‘There! there! bless its heart,’ he said; ‘they 
shall not steal papa’s little treasure again. ’ 

“He soon reached his home, and caused a real sensation by 
walking in with Luvele in his arms and remarking to Loree: ‘See, 
dear, I have Elvie at last.’ He put the child down, and she ran 
to Loree and mumbled: ‘Tanty Loree, Papa Jack found us in the 
park and took me away from mama and Ulda; he wouldn’t have 
anything to do with them—said he didn’t know them;’ and the lit¬ 
tle thing nestled up closer in Loree’s arms and sobbed pitifully. 

“ ‘Why, La Salle!’ said Loree, ‘where did you find Luvele? 
and why didn’t you bring Velcie and Ulda along? You know I 
want to see them all;’ and she looked at him searchingly. 

“ ‘Why, I don’t know them—never saw them before,’ he re¬ 
plied; ‘and how they ever got Elvie with them is a puzzler. I 
left her in Baltimore; but I am glad I found her and have her with 
us. She and Rambert will make a great team, I tell you;’ and he 
seemed greatly pleased at his find. But why he called the child 
Elvie is what puzzled us all. That was a new development, sure.” 


A STRANGE CASE. 


271 


“But wouldn't his calling the child Elvie and declaring he 
left her in Baltimore point to the fact that he had a child and wife 
in that town?" inquired Kumdon. 

“Yes, it would,” replied the Doctor; “but still I thot it just a 
vagary. I expected to find his mother living and in Baltimore, and 
she might be able to explain much of the case that puzzled us all. Of 
course, it was possible that he had another wife and identity that we 
knew nothing of; but if he had, I felt sure it was his own real self.” 

“Gehosephat, Doctor!” exclaimed Kumdon in delight; “but 
won’t this story knock them all off the Christmas bush?” 

“As soon as Mr. Vangive could get away,” continued the 
Doctor, “he hurried to my house, and together we drove to Vel¬ 
de’s home and talked the matter over with her. 

“ ‘It beats me, Doctor,’ said Velcie. ‘He claimed Luvele as 
his child, but under another name—Elvie, and did not recognize 
Ulda at all—he claimed he never saw her before; and he seemed 
quite indignant that I had the child with me. Oh! what am I 
to do?’ 

“ ‘Well, it will be best not to oppose him, for fear he might be¬ 
come violent and kill us all and injure the children,’ said I positive¬ 
ly, and Mr. Vangive agreed with me. 

“ ‘Of course, Luvele is in good hands,’ continued Mr. Vangive, 
‘and she and Rambert are just delighted with one another again.’ 

“ ‘The real danger is, if he changes back to his original self, 
he may still fancy Luvele is his Elvie and take the child with him, 

I explained to them. 

“‘Oh, heavens! no, Doctor,’said Velcie. ‘I would lose my 
mind entirely if he should do that. My poor little Luvele! And 
the child just worships him, too.’ 

“ ‘It would be a bad complication if he abducted the child, 
but there is no danger of his harming her,’ I explained^ ‘He loves 
his children djevotedly in all his identities, and the only danger is 
in opposing him and thus causing him to become violent and very 
dangerous .’ 

“ ‘We shall put on more guards and see that he dt>es not slip 
out and run away. I don’t see how he got away to-day so easily, 
said Mr. Vangive in a puzzled way. 

“‘Perhaps he bribed one of your servants,’ I suggested as a 
way of explaining it. , , _ 

‘“Perhaps he did!’ gasped Velcie. ‘Oh, Doctor! cant I go 


272 


RED KLOVER. 


over there and help watch him and guard the children? It is cer¬ 
tain he will take one of the children with him when he goes, just as 
he did down at Newport;’ and she sighed deeply. 

“ ‘I am afraid it would greatly excite him if he were to find 
you about the place, Velcie, and he might think you were there to 
steal his Elvie again, and in that case he might become violent and 
kill you,’ I explained. 

“ ‘.Dr. Saunders is right, dauter,’ said Mr. Vangive. ‘Your 
presence would be misconstrued by him and he might kill you, 
thinking you meant to steal his child. One can never tell ^what 
crazy people may do. I will employ two private guards to watch 
the house and report immediately if he tries to leave. One of them 
can follow him while the other one communicates with us.’ 

“ ‘That will be the plan, I think,’ I told them.” 

Chapter XIII. 

HIS LAST IDENTITY. 

“At the same time,” continued the Doctor, “over at the Vern- 
don home the following conversation was taking place: 

“ ‘My dear Loree,’ said La Salle, H wonder how that horrid 
woman ever came to have our little Elvie with her? And the au¬ 
dacity of the creature claiming to be my wife! I suppose she is 
laying her plans to blackmail me; and we must watch the children 
closely or she may steal one of them again.’ 

“ ‘My dear husband,’ said Loree, ‘haven’t you noticed that 
Luvele hasn’t been here for several weeks? She went over to stay 
with sister awhile, as we feared that she and Rambert together 
would make so much noise it would disturb you. It was sister that 
you met and you probably imagined that she mistook you for her 
husband.’ 

“ ‘Why, I didn’t know you had a sister,’ replied La Salle. ‘But 
there is no mistake about her claiming that she was my wife; and 
she had another girl with her—quite a big girl, and she also called 
me “Papa.” Why, what is this world coming to? If I catch her 
nosing around here trying to steal our children, I will make short 
work of her, you can bet.’ 

“Loree was now thoroly alarmed, for she feared he might be¬ 
come violent at any time, and she must manage in some way to 
get word to Velcie and warn her to keep clear of him. After con¬ 
siderable coddling, she got him pacified, and persuaded him to play 


A STRANGE CASE. 


273 


the piano and sing. This seemed to rest him, and he soon forgot 
all about the incident. 

“Loree slipped into the kitchen and sent a note to Velcie tell¬ 
ing her of La Salle’s inclination to violence and warning her to 
avoid meeting him on peril of her life; ‘also, tell father to come 
home just as soon as he can,’ she concluded. 

“The note reached Velcie just as Mr. Vangive and myself were 
leaving, but Velcie asked us to remain until she read the note. She 
passed the note to me and I passed it on to Mr. Vangive, after read¬ 
ing it myself. 

“ ‘Yes, La Salle is sure to become violent, and would not hesi¬ 
tate to kill anyone he caught trying to steal the children; and as he 
found Luvele with you once, the very sight of you would arouse 
him immediately to maniacal violence,’ I explained to Velcie. She 
agreed to remain in the house and thus take no chances on a chance 
meeting with him. 

“Instead of the noise of Rambert and Luvele playing about 
the house disturbing La Salle, he liked it very much and played 
with them like a kid himself. This greatly pleased the youngsters; 
and I never saw a happier family for nearly two months, when one 
fine morning Mr. Vangive invited La Salle to accompany him to 
town on a shopping expedition and to get him out of the way for a 
few hours, so Loree could slip over and see Velcie for awhile. 

“Ever since he had changed back to La Salle Verndon, he could 
not bear to have Loree leave him a minute. On one occasion she 
started over to call on Velcie, but he saw her leave, and he snatched 
up his hat and was soon at her side, and wanted to know wher^ she 
was going, etc. ‘Oh! I am just going out for a short walk, to see 
if it will help my headache,’ she explained. ‘Very well,’ said La 
Salle; ‘my head feels a little muddled too, so I will just go along, 
and we can enjoy the jaunt together;’ and he took hold of her arm 
and they fell to chatting like a pair of lovers from Covington. In 
fact, he watched her like a hawk, and she could not get away 
alone at all. 

“Mr. Vangive and La Salle had visited several shops and had 
made a number of purchases, when all at once La Salle exclaimed: 
‘Excuse me a few minutes, Father Vangive, but I need a new necktie 
and some of those new collars they have on hand now, and if you will 
just wait here, I will run in there at Townsend’s and get what I 
want;’ and he jumped out of the buggy and was gone like a weasel. 


274 


RED KLOVER. 


“Mr. Vangive waited about fifteen minutes and then he felt 
that something had happened; so he got a passing boy to hold the 
horse till he came out. He hurried into the store, but found no 
trace of his son-in-law. He had come in there, a clerk told him, 
and had purchased two handkerchiefs, and went out the back door 
thru the alley, and that was all they could tell him, but that was 
enuff. Mr. Vangive knew that some change had come over him 
while in the store, but just what it was he could not guess. 

“Mr. Vangive drove home as fast as the animal could go and 
broke the newte to Loree and told her to remain right there, in case 
he returned and was all right; then he drove to Velcie’s home and 
carried her and Ulda to my office in great haste. As good luck 
happened to be with us, he found me in. 

“ ‘Well,' said I, ‘he will either change to Dr. Holmes or go 
back to his own real self, so the thing to do is to notify the police 
and try to head hi n off or get track of him, and then follow him 
and just let him do as he wants to do.’ 

“So we notified the police department and gave them instruc¬ 
tions not to molest him if they found him—just keep track of him 
and communicate with us, so we could follow him. We also wired 
Airs. Gordon in Baton Rouge and asked her, if Dr. Holmes arrived 
there looking for his wife, to tell him she was on the way there and 
for him to wait till she arrived. We also wired the stock company 
in St. Louis and told them, if Mr. Curtis came there looking for his 
wife, to keep him there till she arrived, and to wire them at once if 
he returned there. 

“ ‘But it is my opinion that he has changed back to his orig¬ 
inal self and will head for Baltimore, so I think I had better light 
out for Baltimore and watch for him there,’ I told them. 

“ ‘But suppose he stays here, or goes to Baton Rouge, or back 
to St. Louis, Doctor?’ asked Velcie, with a puzzled face. 

“ ‘I feel so sure he will go to Baxtimore and be himself again, 
I am willing to pay all my own expenses of the trip,’ I told them. 

“ ‘But why are you so sure he will go to Baltimore, Doctor?’ 
came Velcie right back at me. 

“‘Mainly because he mistakes Luvele for Elvie , whoever she 
may be, and because he has talked so much about Baltimore lately,’ 
I replied. ‘There is some Baltimore identity away down and back 
in his subconscious mind that has been struggling for some time to 
come back and rule him again, and as that is where he spent his 


A STRANGE CASE . 275 

earlier life, it is only reasonable to assume that his Baltimore iden¬ 
tity is his own real self.’ 

“‘But where does the name Elvie come in, Doctor?’ queried 
Velcie, still unsatisfied. 

“ ‘Well/ I answered, ‘it may be that he had a sweetheart by 
that name and lost her and the name still lives in his subconscious 
mind, and Luvele may resemble her, or he may have had a child 
named Elvie, and may or may not have been married to this old 
sweetheart. They may have separated or she may have died, and 
he may have had the child with him for awhile; and when he 
changed to Jack Curtis the first time, he would have forgotten all 
about any child he may have had when living under his own real 
self. If he left a child behind him in Baltimore when he changed 
to Jack Curtis, that child may still be living, and if the child’s moth¬ 
er is dead, as I believe she is, it is most likely he left the child Elvie 
with his own mother, and then changed identities to Curtis, and 
probably traveled with some strolling company of players or trou¬ 
badours. His own real identity and the things connected, with his 
childhood and early youth would be sure to come back at the last 
and rule him—just as all people when dying recall trivial things 
connected with their childhood. They vividly remember these 
trifles, but easilv forget important things that happened recently. 
It is most likely that at the last he will only remember his first 
sweetheart and this Elvie, his mother, and unimportant events in his 
boyhood life.’ 

“ ‘Then he is not likely to still persist in his illusion that Lu¬ 
vele is his dauter Elvie?’ asked Velcie, with a ray of hope in her 
eyes. 

“ ‘Yes, he is almost sure to do so, unless there should be a real 
Elvie on hand to claim him as her father,’ said I positively. 

“ ‘Oh!’ cried Velcie, and it sounded more like a groan, and all 
hope had died out of her wonderful eyes. 

“Loree persisted in believing that he had changed back to Dr. 
Holmes again. 

“After a long consultation, we thought it best to wait a few 
days and see if the police could find him, or await the result of our 
telegrams to Baton Bpuge and St. Louis. After the fourth day, 
the police admitted that they could not find any trace of him, 
and we got wires from the other two places informing us that he 
had not yet appeared. On the fifth day Mr. Vangive, Velcie, and 


2j6 


RED KLOVER. 


myself started for Baltimore, and left the three children with Loree, 
as it was possible that he might come back there any time. 

“After a journey of about two days we arrived in Baltimore 
and stopped at a quiet and little-known boarding-house out in the 
residence section. We began a quiet search of the theaters and hotels 
and rooming-houses, but no trace of him could we find. Then we 
called on the police department and made the rounds of all the 
hospitals, but no results. Our next move was to insert three per¬ 
sonal advertisements in the daily papers for a week—one to La Salle 
Verndon, one to Dr. Ralph Holmes, and one to Jack Curtis, but no 
replies came to any of them. 

“We had arranged with Loree to wire us immediately if he re¬ 
turned there or if she received word from Baton Rouge or St. Louis. 
A week soon slipped by, and we received a long letter from Loree, 
but she had no news to impart regarding him. 

“After we had been in Baltimore about ten days, we had all 
been to a matinee one afternoon, in hopes we might find some clue 
to him thru the actors, and we noticed a very beautiful little girl, 
who was evidently about seventeen years old and very nervous and 
excited. She hurriedly entered a corner drug store and handed in 
a prescription to be filled. 

“ ‘Great -heavens, Doctor!’ exclaimed Velcie in excitement. 
‘Did you notice that girl? Why, she is just the image of Luvele 
and looks so much like Jack!’ 

“Vangive and I had not noticed the girl as Velcie had, so we 
all entered the store and sauntered around and began looking at 
various articles, as tho we were shopping. We soon got a good 
view of the girl, and there could be no mistake—there was only 
one man who could be her father, and that was the man we sought. 

“ ‘What shall we do?’ whispered Mr. Vangive anxiously. 

“ ‘Why, it will be the best to have Velcie follow her and find 
out. where she lives and then come back and report to us,’ said I. 

“We signaled for Velcie to come on out, and told her to follow 
the girl and find out where she went. 

“Vangive and I loitered around outside and saw the girl come 
out with the medicine and hurry off toward the west part of the city. 
Velcie was right after her, and after a walk of about ten blocks she 
turned in at a flower-covered gate and soon entered a pretty little 
vine-clad cottage that stood quite a ways back from the street. It 
was No. 1517 Milton Street. Velcie lost no time getting back and 


A STRANGE CASE . 


2 77 

reporting her find. We all procured a conveyance, and were soon 
at the gate of No. 1517 Milton Street. 

“Just as we drove up we saw a physician coming down the 
walk with his medicine-case in his hand and a troubled look on his 
face. I accosted him politely, saying: ‘Excuse me, Doctor, but you 
evidently have a very sick patient and a very unusual one.’ 

“‘Why—er—y-e-s, I have/ he said; ‘but why are you inter¬ 
ested in the case?’ and he looked us over critically and doubtfully. 

“‘I am Dr. Templeton Saunders, of Cincinnati, and this gen¬ 
tleman and lady are relatives of your strange patient in yonder 
house/ I replied, with deference and courtesy. 

“ ‘Oh! I beg pardon then, Dr. Saunders/ he said. ‘I am glad 
to meet you. I have read several of your books and feel like an 
old friend on that account;’ and he introduced himself as Dr. Bel- 
den Maywood. 

“ ‘Your strange patient has been under my care for about a 
year now, and about three weeks ago he gave us all the slip and 
disappeared/ I continued. ‘It was thru his dauter Elvie that we 
accidentally found him here located at his mother’s/ I ventured. 

“ ‘You sure know him, ’ smiled Dr. Maywood. ‘ He my steriously 
disappeared from his home here at his mother’s about eighteen years 
ago, and she always had faith that he lived and would return some 
day; so about a week ago he suddenly turned up and seemed greatly 
confused and complained of being very tired. She was delighted 
to see him again, and put him to bed, and she and the girl nursed 
him themselves. Mrs. Rogers wanted to send for a physician at 
once, but her son had a positive aversion to doctors and wouldn’t 
hear to it at all. He declared he would be all right in a few days, 
when he had got rested and had relaxed.’ 

“‘What kind of a turn has the case taken now, Doctor?’ I 
asked my brother physician. 

“ ‘Why, he got hurt day before yesterday by a fall down the 
cellar stairs, and his skull is injured/ replied Dr. Maywood. ‘There is 
considerable concussion, and I am not quite sure whether we will 
have to operate or not. Perhaps you had better step in and ex¬ 
amine him right now, Dr. Saunders. I should like your opinion of 
the case, and it comes under your specialty anyway./ 

“‘Very well, Dr. Maywood, that may be best,’ I said. ‘But what 
kind of illusions has he now? Is he conscious, and does he recog¬ 
nize his mother and dauter, etc.?’ I asked as a starter. 


278 


RED KLOFER. 


“ ‘Why—er—y-e-s, he is conscious at times and seems to know 
them all right, but he has an idea that some woman is trying to 
steal his girl—Elvie,’ answered Dr. Maywood. 

“ ‘Was he ever married before he disappeared, and is this girl 
Elvie the only issue of that marriage?’ I asked. 

“ ‘Why, it seems so, but his mother is not sure on that point, 
and Ruldon won’t discuss it at all—he says it is nobody’s business; 
so the case is shrouded in considerable mystery,’ said Dr. Maywood. 

“ ‘Has he ever mentioned my name or spoken of any other 
wife or children?’ I asked. 

“ ‘Not to me,’ he replied. ‘I don’t know what all he has told 
his mother and dauter. You say these people here are his rela¬ 
tives?’ and he looked at Mr. Vangive and Velcie. 

“‘Yes; this gentleman is Mr. Vangive, of Cincinnati, and the 
lady is Mrs. Jack Curtis, of St. Louis,’ I said. 

“I introduced them easily and they acknowledged the intro¬ 
ductions courteously; and I could see that Dr. Maywood was aston¬ 
ished at Velcie’s rare beauty and quiet dignity. 

“ ‘Excuse me, Dr. Maywood, but does your patient ever mention 
the name of the woman who is trying to steal his dauter?’ Velcie 
asked. 

“ ‘Why—er—n-o, I don’t remember that he ever did,’ he re¬ 
plied. ‘He-said he took the child away from her once, but the girl 
says this is not true. The fact is, madam, Mr. Rogers’ mind is bad¬ 
ly muddled and he has many hallucinations;’ and he looked at Vel¬ 
cie wonderingly—that is, he was wondering what relation she bore 
to Ruldon Rogers. ‘Could it be possible,’ mused Dr. Maywood to 
himself, ‘that she is his wife?’ 

“Then Dr. Maywood led the way back to the house and intro¬ 
duced us to Mrs. Rogers and Miss Elvie Myston Rogers. Mrs. 
Rogers was a rather tall and stately woman of about sixty, but 
she looked much younger; she was educated and refined in all her 
ways. The girl was a well-bred and cultured young girl, just a 
little past twenty, and the resemblance she bore to her father was 
unmistakable; like him, she was a musical genius, and also a tal¬ 
ented artist and elocutionist. 

“ ‘Mrs. Rogers,’ said Dr. Maywood, ‘I met Dr. Saunders at the 
gate as I was going out, and as he is a very high authority on menta 1 
and nervous ailments, I asked him to come in and examine your 
son. Perhaps he can throw some light on the case.’ 


A STRANGE CASE. 


279 


“ ‘I am so glad you came in, Dr. Saunders/ said Mrs. Rogers, 
‘for if anything can be done for my poor boy, I want it done/ and 
she gave me a grateful look and extended her hand. 

“ ‘And oh, Dr. Saunders!’ exclaimed Elvie, ‘you and Dr. May- 
wood just must save my poor father, for it would be awful to lose 
him so soon after finding him again/ and she looked at us both 
with a forlorn hope in her pretty brown eyes. 

‘ ‘We shall certainly do all we can for him/ I replied; and Dr. 
Maywood nodded his assent. 

“Just then Elvie left us and went to her father’s room and soon 
came back and announced that he wanted to know who the visitors 
were. ‘I told him they were Dr. Saunders, Mr. Vangive, and Mrs. 
Curtis, but he only frowned and said: “I don’t know them. What 
do they want anyway?” and he frowned again and seemed in deep 
thot/ said the girl in a puzzled way. 

“Mr. Vangive and I exchanged glances, and Dr. Maywood noted 
it with growing curiosity. 

“ ‘Dr. Maywood, I want to confer with you alone a few minutes 
before seeing our patient/ I said. 

“ ‘You can go in the library there/ pointed out Mrs. Rogers; 
and we were soon alone and the door closed. 

“ ‘ Dr. May wood/ said I, ‘ I don’t think it best for me to see him 
at present; besides, I want to have a long talk with his mother first; 
so, if you will leave me your card, I will call on you to-morrow for 
another consultation.’ 

“ ‘Very well, Dr. Saunders/ replied Dr. Maywood. ‘But what 
relation is the beautiful Mrs. Curtis to him?’ and Dr. Maywood’s eyes 
sparkled as if he had been drinking moonshine dew. 

“ ‘That I prefer to defer till to-morrow, Doctor/ said I kindly. 

“ ‘ Very well, then/ said Dr. Maywood. ‘ I shall expect you at 11 
o’clock to-morrow.’ 

“ ‘And I will be there and may have something to tell you that 
will make you hair curl/ said I mysteriously. 

“Then Dr. Maywood took his departure, after making a very 
low obeisance to Velcie. 

“ ‘Mrs. Rogers,’ I said, ‘I want to interview you alone; and if 
Miss Elvie will go and remain with her father, we can talk right 
here.’ 

“‘Very well, Doctor/ said Mrs. Rogers. ‘Elvie, you go and 
stay with your father till I call you.’ 


28 o 


RED KLOVER. 


“ ‘All right, grandma/ replied Elvie. C I hope the Doctor can 
soon have papa well again, so he can play and sing for us.’ 

“With a look of hope and trust in her beautiful dancing eyes, 
Elvie was off to her father’s chamber.” 

Chapter XIV. 

MRS. ROGERS’ STORY. 

“ ‘Dr. Saunders, will you please explain the relationship between 
your friends here and my son Ruldon?’ asked Mrs. Rogers. 

“ ‘I presume that will be best, Doctor/ said Velcie sadly. 

“ ‘Mrs. Curtis here is your son’s wife , and Mr. Vangive is 
your son’s father-in-law/ said I as kindly as I could; but I could 
see that my words cut like a sharp knife. 

“ ‘Is it possible?’ returned Mrs. Rogers. ‘But how is it that her 
name is Curtis? Has she married again?’ and she looked poor 
Velcie over critically. 

“ ‘Yes, she married again when Ruldon deserted her and their 
little dauter, Luvele; but she married your son again under the 
.name of Jack Curtis,’ I explained. ‘The first marriage to him was 
tinder the name of Dr. Ralph Holmes.’ 

‘‘Heavens, Doctor!’ exclaimed Mrs. Rogers. ‘But I have 
feared that Ruldon’s mind has not been just right ever since he 
traveled with that hypnotist, Professor Sengally. He traveled with 
that awful man for two years as one of his subjects and was nightly 
under the hypnotic spell and did all sorts of ridiculous stunts for the 
edification of his audiences, and I have feared that it left him un¬ 
balanced;’ and she tried hard to stifle a sob and swallow something 
in her proud old throat that refused to go down. 

“ ‘Undoubtedly, madam. And he also married Mr. Wmgive’s 
dauter under the name of La Salle Verndon/ I continued; for I knew 
it all had to come out and the sooner we had it over with the better. 

“‘Mercy, Doctor! Oh, my poor boy! My dear Ruldon!’ 
sobbed Mrs. Rogers; and the tears just gushed like an Oklahoma 
oil well. 

“ ‘There, there, mother; bear up/ soothed Velcie. ‘It can’t 
be helped. We are all your friends and have come to help him, if 
we can. I love him just as you do, only more so, for he has been 
all the world to me under two distinct identities, and he is the father 
of our only child. And Loree, his wife under the identity of La 
Salle Verndon, is just as fond of him, and they have the dearest little 


A STRANGE CASE . 


281 

boy in all the world; and our mutual sorrow has made her and me 
real sisters, and we love each other and each other’s children. I 
want to be a real dauter to you, Mother Rogers, and I will help you 
and Elvie nurse him.’ 

“Velcie had both arms around the elder woman, and the two 
were weeping together in their mutual sorrow. 

‘ ‘I am so glad you have come, dauter, for we need you all,’ 
said Mrs. Rogers. ‘But I am afraid we can’t do much for the poor 
boy—can we, Doctor?’ 

“ ‘There is no hope whatever, Mrs. Rogers,’ I answered. ‘All 
we can do is to care for him and prevent him from escaping and 
wandering away again—back to some of his other identities. I 
have had him under close observation for a year now, and I feel sure 
there is no hope of his ever regaining his mental balance. How old 
was he when he traveled with the hypnotist?’ 

“ ‘About fifteen or sixteen, I think,’ replied Mrs. Rogers. ‘When 
the hypnotist was killed in Virginia, he came home and seemed all 
upset and muddled mentally. He got work in an office down town 
for a few months, and then he worked with the theater people at 
one of the theaters; and as he had such wonderful musical talents 
and powers of mimicry, he climbed up rapidly in that profession. 
He went out on the road with some strolling troubadours for awhile, 
and then returned home again and announced his intention of be¬ 
coming a doctor. He evidently got this idea from the hypnotist, 
for that was one of the professor’s favorite characters he had Rul- 
don impersonate when in the hypnotic state.’ 

“ ‘Excuse me, Mother Rogers,’ I broke in, ‘but wasn’t it Dr. 
Holmes he had Ruldon impersonate?’ 

“ ‘Why, bless me, so it was—the great Dr. Holmes. Now I 
recall my son telling me so,’ she said. ‘No doubt that is where he 
got the idea of becoming a doctor;’ and she looked at me curiously. 

“ ‘Well, did he attend medical college?” I asked anxiously.. 

“‘Oh, yes!’ she replied. ‘He entered Johns Hopkins Univer¬ 
sity, and after three years graduated with high honors, but as Dr . 
Holmes. I did not know that he was matriculated under that name 
and never realized it till we went to see him graduate, and he then 
explained that he was known there as Ralph E. Holn es. I was sur¬ 
prised and shocked, and demanded to know why. he had assumed 
another name, and he just looked confused and said he didn’t know 
why. “I just had to take that name,” he said, and that was all 


282 


RED KLOVER. 


we could get out of him. After he graduated—about three weeks, I 
shquld say—he came home one evening looking very tired and 
ghostly, and had a little girl baby in his arms, and said: “Mother, 
I have brought you a dauter—little Elvie is her name, and I want 
you to take care of her and bring her up for me,” and he handed 
the bundle to me and sank in a chair and covered his face with his 
hands and just moaned. I unwrapped the shawl, and there all in 
white was the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen, and she just 
smiled up at me and cooed like a little dove. My heart opened up 
to the little waif at once, and I squeezed her to my heart, and began 
to sing and coo to her in turn. “ Why, Ruldon!” I exclaimed. “Where 
did you get her? Is she your own dauter? And where is her moth¬ 
er?” “Yes, mother, she is my own child, and—and her mother is 
d-dead,” he said. “When and how did she die?” I asked; but he 
just shook his head and sighed. “My son, you must tell me all 
about this,” I demanded, rather harshly; but he only moaned and 
shook his head. “How old is the child?” I persisted; and he 
said, “About fourteen months.” Then he got up and went to his 
room and refused to see me or to eat supper; he said he was tired 
and wanted to rest. The next morning I went to call him, and his 
room was empty—he was gone; and I never heard a word from him 
for about fifteen years—until he walked in dn us about eight days 
ago. There, Doctor, you have my story, and it is a sad ont, too/ 

“ ‘One more question, Mrs. Rogers, - ' I said. ‘Did you ever 
attend a hypnotic performance or study the subject during your 
period of gestation?’ 

“ ‘Why—er—y-e-s, I did,’ answered Mrs. Rogers. ‘My hus¬ 
band, Captain Sidney Taylor Rogers, and I were in New Orleans 
on our wedding trip; and as the whole town was stirred from bot¬ 
tom to top over the strange and uncanny things people did every 
night down at the Crescent Theater, we attended one night, and 
I was peculiarly affected by the strange phenomena and bought a 
book on the subject and read it several times with a strange fasci¬ 
nation; then when we reached New York on our return, I secured 
two more books on the same subject, and did little else than read 
the gruesome things and dream of it in my sleep nearly every night. 
My husband carried the books away with him, for he feared my 
mind was becoming unsettled on the subject.’ 

“ ‘I thank you, madam,’ I said. ‘Now, I have the whole case 
untangled. It is a peculiar case of memralj, brought on by too 


A STRANGE CASE . 


283 


much hypnosis and by pre-natal influence. There is absolutely 
nothing to be done; and unless the skull is fractured and pressing 
on the brain, an operation would be useless. After a subject is 
under the hypnotic spell for awhile, the brain conditions are so 
changed he just goes into these hypnotic states automatically and 
has no control of himself nor of his actions. Each state of hypnosis 
controls absolutely while it lasts and blots out all other memories— 
in fact, produces complete amnesia/ I carefully explained to them all. 

“ ‘Mrs. Rogers, do you recall whether your son ever had any 
trouble with any of the other students while he was at school?’ I 
then asked. 

“ ‘Why—er—I hardly know/ she answered. ‘He came home 
one evening with his face scratched and bruised and one eye slightly 
discolored, but said he and one of the fellows got to scuffling and 
scratched one another a little. He seemed averse to discussing 
the matter, and I did not press him further.’ 

“ ‘Did he ever mention a student by the name of Saunders?’ 
I inquired. 

“ ‘Yes, he did—on two occasions/ said Mrs. Rogers. ‘He said 
he was going to lick that fellow when school was out, but feared he 
would be expelled for fighting.’ 

“ ‘Now I understand his reference to Harold/ I explained to 
Velcie and Mr. Vangive. ‘It seems certain it was my son Harold 
with whom he quarreled and fought, and it is my guess that Troth 
young men were suitors for my son’s wife—then Milvern Hastings— 
and it was over her they quarreled;’ and I felt that another mys¬ 
tery was solved. 

“ ‘Did you say her name was Milvern Hastings?’ excitedly 
asked Mrs. Rogers. ‘Why, we knew that family, and Milvern and 
Ruldon grew up as nabors and went thru high school together, and 
I am certain that my son always fancied Milvern; I remember that 
on one occasion he whipped a boy for throwing snow down her neck; 
so it is more than likely that your boy and mine were both sweet 
on little Milvern Hastings, and as your son was the successful one, 
that explains why Ruldon quit going to see her and even ceased to 
mention her name/ added Mrs. Rogers, with interest. 

“‘This explains my granddauter’s strange fascination for your 
son, Mrs. Rogers, and why she often meets him in her dreams, etc.,’ 
I said. ‘Her mother, my son’s wife, most likely was your son’s boy¬ 
hood sweetheart and it would be natural for her to think of him and 


284 


RED KLOVER. 


dream of him more or less after her marriage to my son, and in that 
way she marked her dauter—my Velden; and as your son’s most 
striking talent is his musical genius, the child would most likely be 
marked in that respect,’ I exclaimed, with a relieved feeling. 

“ ‘Wonderful, Doctor! Wonderful!’ was all Mr. Vangive could 
think to say. 

“‘Yes, he certainly knows how to trace effects back to their 
cause,’ added Velcie, with admiration in her wonderful eyes. 

“Just then Elvie came in and announced that her father was 
sleeping. We explained who and what we were and most of the 
facts in regard to her father’s strange malady, and when I assured 
her that we had no hope for his recovery, her grief was pitiable. 
Velcie took Elvie in her magnetic arms and tried to pacify her, but 
only partially succeeded. However, Elvie took a great fancy to 
Velcie, and soon the two were staunch friends. 

“ ‘Just to think, dear, you and my little dauter Luvele are 
sisters and I am your stepmother!” and Velcie again gathered the 
heart-broken girl to her heart and loved and mothered her like her 
own mother might have done; and Elvie just sobbed and softly 
cried like a mere child, instead of a girl of twenty. It was a pa¬ 
thetic sight, and all our eyes leaked a little. 

“ ‘And you also have a little brother —our little Rambert,’ ad¬ 
ded Mr. Vangive. 

“ ‘Oh! where is he?’ exclaimed Elvie with joy, for she had al¬ 
ways wanted a brother to play with. 

“‘We left him and both little'girls back in Cincinnati with 
my dauter, Loree,’ explained Mr. Vangive. 

“I saw that he had said just a little too much, and Mrs. Rog¬ 
ers picked it up immediately. 

“ ‘Oh! I thot you only had one dauter by my son, Mrs. Curtis,’ 
she said. 

“ ‘That’s all; but your son had yet another wife before we met 
him—the first Mrs. Curtis, you see, and he has a dauter by that 
marriage; Ulda is her name, and she is a sweet and beautiful child 
and looks just like her father, and she also has his wonderful musical 
talent,’ explained Velcie. 

“ ‘And where is that wife?’ asked Mrs. Rogers, with a deter¬ 
mination to have it all over with at once. 

“ ‘He told us she died as a result of injuries in the theater in 


A STRANGE CASE. 285 

St. Louis, and as the other actors and actresses bear him out in this, 
we have no reason to doubt it/ said Velcie finally. 

“‘Oh, grandma! I will now have two sisters and a brother — 
just think of it, grandma!’ exclaimed Elvie, and she danced about 
in great joy in honor of the event. 

“ ‘How old is UldaV asked Elvie, and she came over and 
wound her pretty white arms around Velde’s neck and kissed her. 

“ ‘Just about your age, dear—a year younger, I believe,’ re¬ 
plied Velcie; and she returned the girl’s caress and added to it. 

“Just then we were all surprised to see Ruldon standing in the 
doorway and observing us all with a strange light in his uncanny 
eyes. I motioned to the others to keep silent and let him speak 
first. He just stared like one in a somnambulant dream — and es¬ 
pecially at Velcie and Elvie. Velcie returned his look with a long¬ 
ing in her beautiful eyes that no one but a madman could have re¬ 
sisted. After a few minutes, he turned to his mother and sarcas¬ 
tically asked: ‘Mother, whom have we the honor of entertaining 
to-day?’ and he gave us all a withering look of contempt. 

“ ‘My dear son, these are relatives and friends of yours from 
Cincinnati, and surely you recognize your wife there,’ answered Mrs. 
Rogers; and she pointed to Velcie with a look of entreaty in her 
proud old eyes. 

“ ‘Relatives, nothing!’ exclaimed Ruldon. ‘I never saw them 
before. They are impostors. Away with them!’ and he glared at 
first one and then the other in turn. When he came to Velcie, he 
shook his finger in her face and exclaimed: ‘I believe you are the 
same woman who tried to steal my Elvie from me—now aren’t you?’ 

“‘Why, no, Ralph dear; I am your wife, Velcie. Don’t you 
remember me and our little dauter, Luvele?’ replied Velcie, and she 
tried to put her arms around his neck. 

“Ruldon side-stepped her, and fired back: ‘Indeed, you are 
not my wife; and Elvie here is my only child, and her mother 
died when she was only a baby;’ and he circled his arms around 
his dauter and drew her away, as tho some harm threatened the 
girl. 

“‘Surely you know me, La Salle?’ said Mr. Vangive, and he 
rose and offered his hand arid smiled like a father greeting a long- 
lost son. , 

“‘I never saw you before, sir,’ repried Ruldori; and 1 can t 
imagine why you came here to bother me—and when I am sick, too. 


286 


RED KLOVER. 


“ ‘Of course you remember me, Jack, old bod,’ said I, and I 
slapped him on the back and laffed heartily. ‘I am Dr. Saunders, 
of Cincinnati/ 

“ ‘No, I can’t recall you, either,’ said Ruldon; ‘but that damned 
name Saunders has a familiar sound; but it couldn’t be you, sir, 
for he was a year my junior;’ and he looked troubled and puzzled. 

“ ‘That was my son Harold that went to Johns Hopkins the 
same time you did, and you fought over Milvern Hastings,’ said I 
as a reminder of the event I felt sure took place. 

“‘Oh, yes! yes, so we did, and I licked him; but he got the 
girl. Ha, ha!’ and he laffed immoderately. ‘But it has almost 
slipped my memory. And he was your son? Fine young fellow; 
but he did like the girls.’ 

“ ‘Now you remember me, La Salle?’ I persisted; but he denied 
ever having met me before. ‘Surely you remember Loree and 
your son, Rambert?’ I shot back at him; but it was no use—he 
could noit recall such parties, and stuck to it that he never h^d but 
one wife, Elvie’s mother, and she was dead. 

“ ‘Well, my dear boy, Dr. Maywood brought me in to see you, 
and we are your friends anyway, and only want to help you get 
well,’ said I soothingly. 

“ ‘I thank you for that, Doctor,’ said Ruldon; ‘but I fear this 
woman here (pointing to Velcie) wants to steal my dauter;’ and 
he gave Velcie a look that boded her no good. 

“ ‘No, no, Ruldon! she has no such intentions,’ declared his 
mother soothingly. 

“ ‘Oh, no, papa! She and I love each other already, and we 
are just going to be the best of friends, aren’t we, mammaV 

“ ‘To be sure we are, Mr. Rogers,’ said Velcie; and she took 
Elvie in her arms and sheltered her like an old hen does her chicks 
when danger threatens; and the girl just clung to Velcie as tho 
she were her own mother. 

“‘Very well, then; if you won’t steal my Elvie, you are wel¬ 
come here,’ said Ruldon; and he turned and went back to his room 
and lay down again. 

“ ‘I am afraid your prognosis is only too accurate, Doctor,’ said 
the heart-broken Mrs. Rogers; and then she tried to hide the truant 
tears. 

“ ‘Oh, Dr. Saunders! can’t papa ever get well again?’ cried Elvie 
in alarm; and then, as I shook my head in the negative, she just 


A STRANGE CASE. 287 

nestled deeper in Velde’s loving arms and sobbed as though her young 
heart would break. 

“In about an hour we heard a deep groan from the sick-chamber 
and hurried thither, and found Ruldon unconscious. His head was 
hanging over the side of the bed and his nose bleeding copiously. 
I hurriedly lifted him back to a proper position and felt his wrist, 
but could And very little pulse and it was intermittent—a sort of 
jerky and skip-a-beat kind. We summoned Dr. Maywood, more as 
a matter of ethics than anything else. In about an hour he arrived 
and looked worried. 

“‘How is he?’ he asked on meeting me at the door. 

“ ‘Unconscious, and nearing the end,’ I whispered, so the others 
could not hear it. 

“‘That is what I feared,’ he commented briefly. ‘No need of 
an operation then?’ he asked me. 

“‘None whatever,’ I assured him. ‘However, he may linger 
a week or longer in a semi-comatose condition. Did you know, Dr. 
Maywood, that Mr. Rogers i s a subject of hypnosis—that when a 
boy he traveled with Professor Sengally for two years and was night¬ 
ly put to sleep by the professor?’ I asked. 

“‘No, I was not aware of that fact, Dr. Saunders,’ replied Dr. 
Maywood. 

“‘That being the case, he may linger in the trance or hyp¬ 
notic state for quite a while before he dies,’ I explained to my broth¬ 
er physieian. ‘However, he may have brief returns to conscious¬ 
ness, but the subconscious mind is now in full control and will re¬ 
main supreme to the end,’ I continued. 

“’I had not heard of that phase of the subject, Doctor,’ said 
Dr Maywood, and he looked puzzled. 

’“It is a subject little understood by our profession, and I 
have only recently brought to light a few facts bearing on the sub¬ 
ject’ I replied 

“’I thank you, Doctor, for the light you are throwing on the 
case,’ said Dr. Maywood. 

‘’Then we went in, and Dr. Maywood made a cursory exam¬ 
ination and corroborated my diagnosis and also my prognosis. After 
a brief consultation, Mr. Vangive wired Loree to come at once and 
bring the children.” 


288 


RED KLOVER . 


Chapter XV. 

THE PASSING OF A STRANGE SOUL. 

“In two days Loree arrived with the three children, and after 
a good night’s rest we carried them all out to the little cottage on 
Milton Street and introduced them to Mrs. Rogers and El vie,” 
continued Dr. Saunders. “Mrs. Rogers and Elvie received them 
like long-lost relatives, and soon Elvie and the kids were great 
friends and played together all they could under the circumstances. 
The children were not allowed to see their father, on account of 
the psychological effect it would leave on their tender minds, but 
Loree and Velcie were in constant attendance at his bedside. This 
was a great relief to Mrs. Rogers, for she and Elvie were worn out 
nursing and watching him for any signs of returning consciousness. 
I had ordered that some one must be with him every minute, for he 
might come back any time, and furthermore he might resume any 
of his other identities, so in that event the right ones would be on 
hand to greet him. Loree, Velcie, and the children all remained 
at the Rogers cottage all the time, while Mr. Vangive and I slept 
in our rooms down town. We were to be summoned immediate¬ 
ly if anything unusual occurred. 

“Dr. Maywood saw that he could do nothing and suggested that 
he would turn the case over to me entirely. I agreed to this, and 
told him that if we really needed him, we would summon him; so it 
was arranged, and we settled down to await the end. 

“On the fourth day of Ruldon’s trance he awoke suddenly, 
while Loree was at his bedside, and exclaimed wildly: ‘Oh, Elvie, 
my child! where are you?’ Then he saw Loree, and gasped: ‘Who 
are you? What have you done with my child?’ and his uncanny 
eyes fairly burned holes thru his wife. 

“ ‘Why, La Salle dear, don’t you know me—your own wife, 
Loree?’ and she took his feverish hand in her trembling hand and 
tried to clasp it lovingly, but he jerked it away from her as tho 
she were a poisonous serpent. 

“ ‘Of course I don’t know you. I never saw you before. Where 
is my dauter, Elvie?’ he asked, and continued to glare at her. 

“ ‘Very well, dear,’ said Loree. ‘Just be quiet and I will call 
Elvie; she is out in the yard playing with Rambert , Luvele , and 
UldaE and she looked straight in his burning eyes to see if he 
would recognize any of their names; but he only moaned for Elvie. 


A STRANGE CASE. 


289 


“Loree soon returned with Elvie, and Ruldon clasped her in 
his arms and moaned pitifully. Loree told Elvie to remain with 
him and to call them if she needed any of them. In about an hour 
Elvie came out with a white face and announced that her father 
had just closed his eyes and seemed to have slipped off into slum¬ 
ber again. 

“Ruldon was again unconscious, and it was Velde’s turn to 
watch by his side. He just sank deeper and deeper into the trance¬ 
like sleep, and his face relaxed into a happy and peaceful smile. 
Once during the night he stirred uneasily and moaned a few times 
and gasped out: ‘Damn Harold Saun—Saun—! I licked him, but 
he—he ’ and that was as far as he ever got. 

‘‘Velcie reported this to me the next day when I called, and I 
told her that he might utter broken sentences or just incoherent 
words at intervals, but it signified nothing—just a few old scars 
on the subconscious mind trying to break out. 

“Velde was relieved by Loree, and then Elvie and Mrs. Rog¬ 
ers took their turn at watching the patient, except when Mr. Van- 
give and I performed that function—vigiling a four-windowed soul 
as it was drifting into the Great Voiceless Beyond. 

“On the sixth day Ruldon briefly returned to consciousness and 
asked for water ; after quenehing his thirst, he asked for the time and 
wanted his banjo. He was told that it was 4:20 in the afternoon* 
but he declared it could not be that late. Elvie happened to be 
with him at the time, and got his banjo and handed it to him. He 
tuned it up and turned himself loose for nearly an hour and also 
sang several old songs, and then asked for his mother. When she 
came and asked, ‘Well, my boy, j^ou are better to-day. What do 
you want for supper?’ and patted his abundant brown hair, he 
looked at her silently for nearly a minute and then replied, ‘Why, 
mother dear, I think a whippoorwill stuffed with mulberries and 
chocolate ice cream would be fine.;’ then he reached for his instru¬ 
ment again, but his eyes drooped shut, and he relapsed into the 
comatose state again. The poor old mother clung to his hand and 
wept and cried as tho her last star had set forever. 

“Ruldon remained in the out-drifting dreamland till nearly 
11 o’clock the next day, when he moaned uneasily and turned over 
several times, and then his eyes snapped wide open, and he mut¬ 
tered the one word, ‘Water!’ Velcie was with him, but he did not 
notice who it was. She gave him the water and he drank nearly 
two glasses ravenously, and sighed, ‘I am better now;’ then he 


290 


RED KLOVER. 


turned over and faced the wall, and slept again as before. He slept 
on, only his breathing was slower and his heart-beats were scarcely 
discernible. 

“When Loree came to relieve Velcie at 7 o’clock that night, 
Velcie refused to leave him; so they both watched by his side, for 
they felt that the end was near. At thirteen minutes to 12 o’clock 
that night the strange Four-windowed Soul left its earthly tenement 
and silently accompanied old Charon across the Shoreless River. 

“They quietly summoned Mrs. Rogers and Elvie, but they did 
not awake the children. Mrs. Rogers and Elvie came quickly, and 
when the old mother saw that her boy had passed on for ever, she 
quietly knelt down by the bedside and between her two dauters- 
in-law, and, with Elvie clinging to Velcie, they all silently bowed 
their heads and uttered a silent and wordless prayer. Thus ended, 
my boy, the strangest tragedy in human annals. 

“Velcie hurried to our apartments and broke the news to Mr. 
Vangive and myself, and we hurried to the Rogers cottage and 
yiewed the corpse. 

“Before starting, we summoned Dr. Maywood and he arrived 
about an hour later. Of course, there was nothing for him to do 
except to look at the dead body and make out the burial permit. 
‘Apoplexy’ I suggested would look best in the death certificate, 
and he agreed with me; in fact, Dr. Maywood knew little about the 
history of ^he case, as Mrs. Rogers felt a delicacy about telling 
him the whole story, and we all agreed that it was not necessary 
anyway; so ‘apoplexy’ it was, and the public never knew. 

“Ruldon Rogers was quietly buried in the family lot two days 
later, and thus the Strange Case terminated. 

“Mrs. Rogers and Elvie were inconsolable and begged us all 
to remain with them awhile, so we prolonged our stay about ten 
days, and then Mr. Vangive, Loree, Ulda, Rambert, and I returned 
to Cincinnati. Loree and the two children kept house for Mr. Van¬ 
give, and the children grew up together and were inseparable. 
When Ulda had completed her education at twenty-one years of 
age, she returned to the stage, and soon reached the very top as a 
star of the first magnitude. 

“Mrs. Rogers and Elvie would not let Velcie and Luvele leave 
at all, so they remained there and lived with them; and it was a 
beautiful and touching sight to see the love and devotion between 


A STRANGE CASE. 291 

them all; 11 and Elvie always called Velcie her ‘mamma’ and little 
Luvele her sister. 

“The poor old mother never recovered from the awful blow, 
and after about two years and three months she died of a broken 
heart and followed her strange and talented son to the Great Be¬ 
yond -if there be such a place. 

1 “Velcie now took er place at the head of the family, and 
reared and carefully educated both girls; and about two years 
after the death of Mrs. Rogers, Velcie permitted Dr. Belden May- 
wood to lead her tD the altar; and all the papers united in saying she 
was the most beautiful and charming bride ever seen in Baltimore— 
“and they were right,” admitted the lucky doctor to his friends 
and myself. I persuaded them to come to Cincinnati on their wed¬ 
ding trip, as Loree and Rambert were crazy to see Luvele, and 
she-was just as anxious to see them and play with her little brot er 
again. It was a happy family reunion, my boy, and I would not have 
missed it for the world.” 

“What became of Elvie, Doctor?” asked Kumdon, with interest. 

“A few years later she made a brilliant marriage, and went to 
Richmond to live,” replied the Doctor. 

“I thank you, Doctor,” said Kumdon. “It is a most wonder¬ 
ful story; and won’t they all sit up and blink when they read it 
next Sunday—or rather, the beginning of it next Sunday? It will 
run as a serial and continue thru several issues.” 

“Go to it, my boy, go to it; and use plenty of pigment,” said 
Dr. Saunders. “Now we will go down and have a glass of cham¬ 
pagne before you depart; and perhaps Velden is waiting to give 
you another swipe with her tongue,” continued the Doctor, and he 
smiled at the thot of it. 

“That child sure has some sharp tongue all right, Doctor,” re¬ 
plied Kumdon; “but she is a genius and as bright as they make 
them. I am proud to know her.” 

“I thank you, my boy,” said the Doctor. “She is all we have 
left, and, of course, she is badly spoiled.” 

“And that is the way you treat me, Kumdon—spending the 
whole evening up there listening to grampum’s ghastly old yarns?” 
and Velden pretended to be mortally offended. 

“Of course, I would much prefer being down here in such ex¬ 
cellent company, but your distinguished grandsire has just fur¬ 
nished me with the data for a wonderful story, and I know you will 


292 


RED KLOVER. 


be glad when you realize what a big hit it will make,” said Kumdon; 
and he looked at Velden in an apologetic way. 

‘Well, Mr. Great Reporter, I will forgive you this time, but 
never again;” and Velden’s pretty eyes snapped like jiggered light¬ 
ning on a spree. 

Kumdon did not wait long and insisted that it was too late for 
any music, but promised to do better next time; so he bade Velden 
good-night and skiddooed into the darkness. 

Chapter XVI. 

THE STORY. 

The story made a profound sensation in all circles, and the 
medical fraternity sharply criticised Dr. Saunders for keeping such 
a wonderful and unheard-of case under his hat. “Why didn’t he 
write it up for the medical magazines and thus let us all in on it?” 
asked thousands of the doctors all over the world. Kumdon be¬ 
came a lion everywhere, and could not begin to fill the invitations 
from prominent people to dine with them. His name was present¬ 
ed to all the clubs and he was in demand everywhere. Several New 
York papers offered him all kinds of inducements to come and take 
a place on their staffs, but he modestly declined them all, and de¬ 
voted himself to the Daily Bull that had given him his first job. 
His paper advised lmm to publV' the ctory in book form along with 
a number of his best short stories and sketches. He did this and 
millions of copies were sold, and he soon became famous as a pop¬ 
ular author, and did not know what to do with the money that 
poured in from the royalties. The Daily Bull also raised his salary 
to #300 a month; so he was a very proud and happy boy. 

Kumdon helped his parents and near kinfolks back in West 
Virginia and made several wise investments, and he had one of the 
niftiest boats built that ever chugged the waters of the Ohio and 
Mississippi rivers. This he presented to his good friend, Captain 
Stephens. The Captain protested against accepting it as a gift on 
his birthday, but Kumdon and Yulvern were inexorable, and the 
kind old Captain had to yield and accept the new boat, and maybe 
he wasn’t proud of it! It was the belle of both the rivers, and all 
the old rivermen were envious of the Captain’s good luck. “It all 
comes, gentlemen, of being kind to a poor boy at a time when he 
needed a helping hand and a kind smile,” he told a bunch of them 
at the Burnett House one evening. “Many a man would have 


A STRANGE CASE. 


293 


thrown him off at the first landing and thot no more about it; but 
there is something in me that always wants to shy a crust to every 
stray dog I meet.” 

Kumdon now made up his mind to forget his little flotation 
w*’th Velden^ and stick to his first love—Yulvern; and oh, how 
happy she was when she noticed how attentive and devoted her 
lover was! He never went any place without taking her along; and 
soon after her graduation they were quietly married on the new 
boat just as it was leaving the wharf at Cincinnati. 

They went up to Wheeling and spent part of their honeymoon 
visiting Kumdon’s relatives and boyhood friends; then they went 
on to a place Kumdon had long wanted to see—dear old crooked- 
street Boston, and while there paid Kumdon’s old friend, Monsieur 
Vallos, the artist, a visit; then they stopped off at New York and 
paid Kumdon’s publishers a brief visit, and then home via Wash¬ 
ington and Baltimore, back to Wheeling, where they connected 
with the Captain and his new boat, The Moonbeam , and drifted back 
down the dear old river to a dear little vine-tangled bungalow of 
their own. Here Kumdon and Yulvern lived an ideal and happy 
life, and the boy climbed to yet greater heights. 

They raised two beautiful and talented children—a girl and a 
boy. Kumdon wanted to name the girl Velden , but Yulvern ’lowed 
that Velcie Ulda would be prettier, and so it was as she wished. 
They named the boy Varius Bentley Spry and he grew up to be even 
spryer than his distinguishd name. 

The End. 


294 


RED KLOVER. 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL 

— O R — 

DID HE WIN THE CASE? 

Chapter I. 

About ten miles up the Red River in western Louisiana is one of 
the biggest and most picturesque plantations in all the Southland. 
It is famed for its broad acres, rich soil, profusion of fruit trees and 
flowers, and the hospitality of its master—old Jerome Lambert Hop¬ 
kins, the last of a famed and aristocratic old Southern family, rich 
in ancestry and traditions. Colonel Hopkins was a tall and pict¬ 
uresque old gentleman of the old school, and had won his laurels 
on the field of battle, in the halls of Congress, and in the business 
and social worlds. He was a man of wide experience and broad 
and liberal education—ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but 
generous and kind-hearted. To be a guest of the Hopkins family 
and enjoy their unfailing hospitality was an honor sought by all 
classes. 

Both the Colonel and his wife came from a long line of wealthy 
and aristocratic people and were by every instinct of heredity, edu¬ 
cation, and environment exclusive and independent; and yet the 
Colonel was the very soul of democracy and good-comradeship to 
those whom he considered his equals or worthy of his hospitality. 
The Colonel proudly traced his genealogical tree back to a long 
line of fearless Kentuckians and cultured and distinguished Vir¬ 
ginians. Mrs. Hopkins came from a wealthy old Creole family of 
New Orleans and her people originally came to Louisiana from 
Montreal and La Belle France. The married life of the Colonel 
and Mrs. Hopkins had always been happy and prosperous, and 
there had never been a stain on the proud old family escutcheon. 

Their first-born was a son, Jerrold Jofton Hopkins, and he was 
indeed a promising youngster, and he grew to young manhood 
amidst a lazy and indolent atmosphere of wealth, culture, and ease. 
He had, of course, been given every educational advantage, and 
learned rapidly. He passed thru college and graduated with the 
highest honors. 

The second child was a beautiful dauter, Fannetta Moss Hop- 
kins, and she was just two years younger than her brother Jerrold. 
She grew up amidst the same surroundings and the same soft and 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


295 


indolent atmosphere pervaded her blood and played hookey with 
her soul, but she was quite different from her brother. She was 
dark and Latin-hued like her mother’s people, but her nature was 
deep and loyal. Whatever she said with her eyes or lips was en¬ 
dorsed by her heart. She had a sweet, quiet, girlish dignity about 
her that rendered her very charming and irresistible. Of course, 
she was widely sought after even 7 where she was known; but it 
seemed that the “right one” had not yet materialized. 

Of course, her mother had several desirables picked out for Fan- 
netta, but the Colonel said: “Oh, mother! let the child pick her 
own mate. She is a better judge of what she wants than you can 
possibly be.” 

“Very true, my dear,” replied Mrs. Hopkins; “but a girl of 
Fannetta’s age needs a great deal of guidance. Youngsters are S o 
impulsive and so likely to err, you know.” 

“Yes, and so are we likely to err, as thousands of others have 
done,” continued the Colonel. “Fannetta is not fickle nor foolish, 
and I feel sure she has good judgment in such matters. Her heart 
and mind will both guide her, no doubt, so don’t worry about the 
child; just let her alone and she ’ll come thru all right.” 

As the Colonel had the strongest mind and will, his ideas pre¬ 
vailed, and Fannetta was permitted to choose her own company. 
Of course, the Colonel knew the history and reputation of every 
young man in their social set, and he was too good a judge of human 
nature to try to coerce his dauter into marrying a man whom he 
or Mrs. Hopkins might select. 

“Now, mother, you know that I just couldn’t think of marry¬ 
ing Mr. Fasden,” said Fann'etta. “No doubt he is all right and a 
very desirable catch for any girl, but—” 

“But what?” persisted her mother. 

“Well, I just don’t know —only my heart could never pal with 
him,” returned Fannetta. “There is a scar somewhere away back 
in his primeval soul that makes his ideas crooked, and—and well, 
I just know I could never trust him, so please don’t tty to make me 
like him, mamma;” and she wound her pretty white arms around 
her mother’s proud old neck and kissed her into forgetfulness. 

Jerrold!was a free rover when it come to playing the heart 
game. He was a natural flirt; in fact, he considered every good- 
looking girl his legitimate prey—just as a hunter does every bird 
that is careless enough to be flying too low. At the time I write 


296 


RED KLOVER. 


Jerrold was just past his twentieth birthday and Fannetta was just 
leaving her eighteenth milestone behind. 

Jerrold had already had two rather serious calico affairs while 
at college and in one of them his inamorata was a young married 
woman; but they all looked alike to Jerrold. It cost the Colonel 
several thousand dollars to extract his son from these two little 
calico affairs; and on two occasions he came to his son’s rescue 
just in time to save the young cuss from being expelled from col¬ 
lege!—on account of poker obligations and a few other I. 0 . U.s 
signed by the Hopkins heir-apparent. 

The Colonel made desperate efforts to keep all this from La 
Vesta, his wife, but there are always people in every community 
who specialize in disseminating scandal; so Mrs. Hopkins always 
learned of all her son’s disgraceful escapades. 

“Yes, mother,” said the Colonel, “the young scamp seems de¬ 
termined to bill himself straight thru to h—”' 

“Jerome!” exclaimed Mrs. Hopkins just in time. “Remember 
you are a deacon and in the presence of a lady.” 

“Excuse me, La Vesta, but I almost said Halifax ,” the Colonel 
explained. 

“Yes, I know you did—only it would have been a much shorter 
and hotter one than the Halifax we know in Nova Scotia,” replied 
Mrs. Hopkins; and she laffed and forgave his near breach of lan¬ 
guage with her glorious eyes—“eyes that age can never dim,” the 
Colonel often told her, and he meant it, too.. 

When Jerrold returned from college at Louisville, Kentucky, 
he informed his parents that he had sown all his wild cereals and 
intended to settle down and amount to something, and thus per¬ 
petuate the old family name and traditions. The parents were 
very much elated at this good news, and the Colonel ’lowed it was 
almost too good to be true. However, he would hope for the best, 
and knew the old saying about the devil finding work for idle hands, 
etc.; so he decided to take the youngster in business with himself, 
and thus keep him busy and divert his mind from his old habits of 
women, wine, and song. Therefore, about two weeks after Jer- 
rold’s return from college, and after a big social party in honor of 
his graduation, he was sent to New Orleans by his father, on an 
important business affair. Colonel Hopkins had for nearly a year 
been negotiating with a New Orleans company for the purchase of 
a three-thousand-acre timber tract in Louisiana, but he and the 
company could never quite get together and close up the deal. 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


297 


But now he felt sure that his highly educated son was just the 
one to send on to negotiate the deal and close up the sale. The 
Colonel signed blank checks for about seventy-five thousand dollars 
and gave them to his son to fill out and use in paying for the val¬ 
uable timber land the elder Hopkins coveted. 

Jerrold was all swelled up with the trust reposed in him and 
the compliment paid to his intelligence and business judgment. 
He left one morning early in August for the Crescent City and trav¬ 
eled on a small packet that plied the Red River and the Missis¬ 
sippi between Shreveport and New Orleans. 

Chapter II. 

A RIVER TRIP TO HEAVEN AND TO THE 
CRESCENT CITY. 

The weather was ideal that August morning when Jerrold Hop¬ 
kins bade his parents and sister good-bye on the little wharf at 
Shreveport, Louisiana, and started on his memorable trip to New 
Orleans to negotiate the sale of a valuable tract of timber land to 
his father. This was the first real piece of business the young man 
had ever attempted and he was particularly anxious to retrieve 
his past life by making good now, and thus becoming a real asset 
to his father. He had sown an awful lot of feral cereals while at 
college, and had been a big expense to his father. Here was a 
chance to make good and make “the Governor,” as he termed his 
father, forget his son’s disgraceful escapades at college; and these 
escapades had been a grievous blow to his sensitive and highbrow 
mother. “ But now the slate will be wiped clean,” mused the young¬ 
ster to himself, as he watched the beloved old home town grow 
dim in the distance. “I will just show mater and pater that I 
am a real asset in spite of all I ha ^e cost them. But pshaw! Every 
young fellow that has red blood puts out a cereal crop while at col¬ 
lege,” is the way he let himself down easily. Sowing wild oats, 
not only sticks the needle in the sower’s fingers, but sometimes the 
scar extends to the soul and becomes a permanent part of one’s 
nature. 

Jerrold fully believed that now he was a full-fledged man, and 
just laffed at the idea of temptations having any influence over 
him. “Of course, when I was only a kid at college I was a little 
weak and foolish where calico was a factor in the game, but now 
I am a man and can put such trifling things behind me. I am just 
going to make the Governor so proud of his little boy that he ’ll be in 


298 


RED KLOVER . 


for running me for Congress,” he said to himself, and he indulged in 
many other pleasant reflections as the little steamer with its jack- 
rabbit smokestacks dreamily slipped through the muddy red water. 
He sat on the north side of the boat and smoked cigaret after 
cigaret and indulged in very laudable and roseate dreams. 

After the noon-day luncheon, Jerrold tried to get interested 
in a novel, and declined several tentative invitations to sit-in a 
card game with other gentlemen. He knew what these friendly 
little card games “just to kill time” meant—playing for money 
later on, and he had promised his parents that he would not gam¬ 
ble nor frequent questionable places. His father had particularly 
warned him against professional card-sharps and blacklegs that 
traveled on the boats in various disguises of respectability—such as 
ministers, planters, senators, merchants; etc. “No, sir-ee! I am 
not going to be caught by any of them. Me for business and the 
straight and narrow path from now on,” he mused, and he fully 
believed in himself and his ability to resist all temptations. 

About 5 o’clock that afternoon the quaint old town of Alex¬ 
andria, Louisiana, hove in sight, and the captain announced that 
the boat would slop forty-five minutes to load and unload freight, 
take on passengers, etc. 

Jerrold went up town and laid in a fresh supply of grave weeds 
and several pounds of chocolate candy. He had a sweet tooth all 
right, and chocolates were his favorites-—in more senses tiban candy. 

About twenty passengers came aboard at Alexandria and most 
of them were for the Crescent City. Among the new arrivals was 
a particularly beautiful girl of dazzling and dusky brilliancy. She 
was a petite brunette about eighteen years old, and as trim and 
graceful as a gazelle. Her movements were languid and noiseless, 
like the black puma of Nicaragua. Her wonderful eyes were daintily 
and artistically veiled by long and graceful lashes; they were of a 
deep viblet dusk and danced like the soft and languorous waves com¬ 
ing ashore on the Azores in August; they were those deep, dreamy, 
come-to-my-soul-forever eyes that lure men thru hell without any 
asbestos clothes on. And, oh, boy! the great bales of dark bronze 
hair that had the moonlight tangled in it. Her mouth was luscious 
and just big enuff for a man-trap. Her hands were small and 
dainty, but with the latent strength of a puma. She wore a No. 2 
shoe, and possessed features that would break tip an artistic club in 
the Latin Quarter in about three adult minutes. 

Jerrold was seated right where he could see the incoming pas- 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


299 


sengers, but they could not see him. “Jumping Jehosaphat! but 
isn’t she a man-killer?” exclaimed Jerrold to himself, and his heart 
was already stepping on the gas with both feet. “Slow down thei*e, 
old heart! Remember, no more calico /” he again exclaimed to hirn. 
self, and he slapped his hand over his tumultuous heart facetiously, 
but his face was going some in the Rainbow Class. 

He lighted a fresh coffin-nail and inserted it in the north-left 
corner of his mouth and sucked hard on it; at the same time he 
fed cream chocolates thru the other corner of his mouth, and tried 
to divert his thoughts to other subjects, but it was no go. His 
heart continued to step on the gas with all fours and his cheeks 
were playing dominoes with a California sunset. “Jerrold, old 
man, this will not do. If you don’t come out of it, I will have the 
captain put you ashore at the next stop,” he said to himself; and 
he sat there and pondered over this new problem until the boat 
had rounded a bend that shut out the view of Alexandria. Then 
he got up, threw his snipe overboard, and stretched himself like a 
Mississippi hound does when coming out of its siesta and looking for 
a shady place that the afternoon sun will not be able to find. 

“Well, here goes to get acquainted with the ‘ man-killer ’,” con¬ 
tinued J err old in a conversation with himself. “It won’t do any 
harm to meet the divinity and be civil to her, and she may be going 
thru to New Orleans herself and will be as lonesome as the rest of 
us; so I will not be a cad and go off and sulk by myself, like an 
ascetic or a hermit—in fact, I didn’t know that the blamed trip was 
going to be so long and lonesome and thus he placed another 
Seeley mattress for himself to light on. He lighted another coffin- 
hinge, and nonchalantly strolled about the small deck and then 
s'auntered into the cabin, where nine ladies, four children, and 
eleven men were lounging around—some trying to entertain them¬ 
selves with a book or magazine, while others were playing cards, 
and two of the young men were hovering over the piano and turn¬ 
ing the music for a young lady who considered herself a musician. 
She was quite a pretty and attractive blonde, and could sing much 
better than she could play. 

Several of the men knew Jerrold and spoke pleasantly to him. 
One of them was an elderly gentleman, who was a county judge 
and local politician of more or less power in the affairs of Shreve¬ 
port. He had known Jerrold from childhood and had carefully 
noted his progress—in fact, the old Judge had a very attractive 
granddauter whom he wished to see related to the Hopkins family 


3 °° 


RED KLOVER. 


by marriage, and he would have been particularly pleased to have 
the Hopkins heir shine up to his granddauter. 

“ ’S matter, Jerrold, my boy?” laffed the old Judge as he 
wrung Jerrold’s hand and laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder in a 
fatherly way. “You seem terribly nervous, my boy. Too many 
of those blamed cemetery rivets. Here, smoke a man's weed!” 
and the Judge passed over his gold cigar-case, that was always well 
filled with real Havanas. 

“Thanks, Judge,” said Jerrold; “I believe I will try a cigar 
for a change. I am quite well, thank you; but I have not fully 
recovered from my over-study while at college. However, a few 
months’ rest and quiet will put me back on the map at the right 
place.” 

Then Jerrold turned and went down to the piano and joined 
in the singing—more as an excuse for avoiding a conversation with 
the Judge. Jerrold was something of a musician himself and had 
a really fine tenor voice. At the conclusion of the song, Jerrold 
introduced himself to the young men, and one of them presented 
him to the blonde young lady who was playing. The four of them 
soon became well acquainted and sang several songs together, and 
then Jerrold played some and made a big hit. 

The beautiful little brunettle was nowhere to be seen and the 
boy’s nervousness grew on him perceptibly. As he was about in 
mid-stream of a song that he was singing as a solo, a cabin door 
down near the rear of the room opened, and Elna quietly stepped 
out and slid into a seat and listened politely until Jerrold finished, 
and then she got up and quietly strolled out on the deck and was 
soon comfortably coiled up in a big steamer chair on the shady side 
of the boat. She at once buried her pretty face in a late novel 
and seemed oblivious to all mankind. 

Jerrold soon lost all interest in the music and his new acquaint¬ 
ances. He went to his room and lay down and had a long and 
silent debate with himself, but—as usual, the calico won. “What 
difference does it make anyway?” he mused to himself. “If that 
fetchtaked old Judge wasn’t aboard, I would be mightily pleased. 
Why do I want to throw him overboard without the benefit of 
clergy? Why do all my teeth itch when I see those young squirts 
looking at Elna with their souls in their eyes? In other words, 
Jerrold, old boy, zvhy do our sex always make such fools of themselves 
over a pretty bit of georgette with a picot lace collar?” And thus 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


301 

he tried to guy himself into a sane and reasonable mood—but a de¬ 
bate with the heart has always been more or less of a failure. 

Jerrold got up and carefully readjusted his tie and put on a 
fresh collar, and then, with a novel in his hand, he came out yawning 
with ennui , and after a casual look around to be sure she had not 
returned to tjie cabin, he lazily sauntered out on the deck and 
strolled around on the shady side of the boat. “Ah, there she is!” 
he ejaculated to himself; and he reached for a chair that was near 
her and awkwardly stumbled and fell against her chair (which he 
did on purpose). 

“Ah! I beg your pardon, miss, but it was so awkward of me 
to stumble the way I did. It is a little dark around here, but it 
was wholly due to my awkwardness.” 

“Oh! to ,be sure, Mr. -?” 

“Hopkins—Jerrold Hopkins, of Shreveport, Louisiana.” 

“My name is Elna Zuretta Kampion, m’sieu;”and she rose 
and made a quiet and just the proper obeisance and fully forgave 
him with her eyes. 

“I'm sure it is more than kind of you, Miss Kampion, to over¬ 
look my awkwardness,” continued Jerrold; “but really, I am so 
glad to make your acquaintance, for I am bound for New Orleans, 
and it is so stupidly lonesome on these little Red River boats—un¬ 
less one ijs fortunate enuff to meet with some congenial and adapt¬ 
able people;” and he tried to swallow her at one gulp with his 
soul-hungry eyes. 

“Really, Mr. Hopkins, I was getting dreadfully bored my¬ 
self until you so kindly and thotfully stumbled over me,” rejoined 
Elna, and she gave him a pal -look that took all the thorns out of 
life’s path and left it carpeted with flowers and angel feathers for 
his ututored feet. 

“I presume you are going thru to the Crescent City, Miss 
Kampion,” remarked Jerrold. 

“Oh, yes; I have a married sister living there and I am on my 
way to visit her. I have just been visiting another sister in Shreve¬ 
port,” returned Elna. 

“Quite a dull old town, unless one is acquainted,” said Jer¬ 
rold. “However, Shreveport has some splendid people;” and he 
rattled on in an effort to not let matters lag, now that he had stum¬ 
bled in and broken the ice. 

“Yes; I like Shreveport very much; and the next time I visit 
sister I intend to stay longer, and see if I can get acquainted with 



302 


RED KLOVER. 


some of the live -wires among your charming sex,” said Elna; and 
she archly tossed him a smile that was plainly a challenge. 

“May I be so inquisitive as to ask the name of your sister and 
what her husband does, if he is in business?” said Jerrold. 

“Oh, to be sure! She is Mrs. Torren Smiley, and her husband is 
the manag-r of a big lumber company that has a chain of lumber 
yards thruout Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas,” answered Elna; 
and she tossed another, smile in his direction that burned her brand 
clear in on his soul. 

“I have heard of him, of course, but I don’t recall ever having 
met him personally,” lied Jerrold like a gentleman. “I have just 
returned from college ^nd,, strictly speaking, socially I am hardly 
out yet, as mother would say,” and he laffed at the irony of it. 

“As you are just a college boy, Mr. Hopkins, I am afraid y°u need 
a chaperon,'’ said Elna, with another ironical smile that cut in a 
way which felt good. 

“No oubt of it, Miss Kampion,” said Jerrold, “and I am 
just wondering if you wouldn’t make a good chaperon for me—at 
least on this memorable trip to New Orleans;” and his blue-gray 
eyes were full of soul. 

“Perhaps. But I warn you that I shall be dreadfully strict. I 
will not even let you sing any more with that beautiful and inter¬ 
esting blonde with whom you were singing this evening; and I shall 
make you say your prayers and go to bed promptly at 8 o’clock ev¬ 
ery night—unless—unless I feel inclined to remain up a little later. 
There! How does the prospect strike you, Mr. Hopkins?” and her 
eyes danced and revealed dangerous eddies in their hidden depths. 

“Oh! I think that would be just ripping—splendid, I mean,” 
answered Jerrold. “But I hope you will decide to remain up a 
little later than 8 o’clock, as it is almost nineteen minutes after 
that time now.” 

“So it is,” said Elna, glancing at her wrist-watch. “Well, if 
you ire a real good little boy and don’t smoke any more cemetery 
keys to-night, I may let you stay out in care of the moon and myself 
till a quarter of 9 o’clock;” and she heaved a look over to him 
that any sailor or rookie would take for an anchor. 

“Now, chaperon, I don’t believe you could do much of a job 
of spanking with those dainty little hands,” said Jerrold; and he 
timidly picked up one of her hands and proceeded to study it like 
an Egyptologist does a new hieroglyphic. As she did not object 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


303 


to this initiatory procedure, he very gallantly carried it to his lips 
and plan ed ( his ancestors were all planters) a sizzling soldier-boy 
kiss on it; then he politely returned it to her lap, where its twin- 
mate was resting. He looked alarmed and almost guilty, bu,t in¬ 
stead of a frown on Elna’s beautiful face there was a mystifying 
smile that puzzled and rattled him. 

After enjoying Jerrold’s bewilderment for a moment, Elna 
reached over and in a bashful and awkward way carried his hand 
to her lips and kissed it, jus:, as he did hers; then she carefully re¬ 
turned it to him and awkwardly said: “Thank you, Air. Hopkins .” 

“Well, of all the cheeky and outlandish things I ever heard 
of, you certainly take the candy!” exploded young Hopkins, fairly 
beside himself with astonishment and chagrin. Here was a mere 
slip of a girl mocking him in such a ridiculous way that it really 
amounted to a roasting. 

“Oh, no, my dear boy; not cheeky at all, just polite,” said 
Elna, “You see you were not polite enough to thank me for the 
use of my hand when you borrowed it; you just dumped it down 
in my lap and looked like a sheep-killing dog that has been caught 
with wool between its teeth. That is no way to do when you have 
borrowed someihing from a nabor and return it;” and she gave 
him a sweet look of school-ma’am reproof that was sure tantalizing. 

Then Jerrold reached over after Elna’s hand a second time, 
but she politely declined to lend it to him again; after which they 
talked almost rationally for an hour, when she arose and remarked: 
“Little boy, it is long, long after curfew- time and you must go to 
bed immediately and say your prayers twice and a half this time. 
I shall expect to meet you in the dining-room promptly at 7:30 
to-morrow morning. Good-night and pleasant dreams:” and she 
audaciously kissed her hand toward him and ra 1 into the cabin 
and was in her room before he had half recovered from his aston¬ 
ishment. Instead of obeying her order to retire immediately, Jer¬ 
rold just gasped and lit a fresh cemetery screw and th:n lolled back 
and bayed the full moon with his wild and rolling eyes 

An hour later the old Judge found Jerrold in a semi-trance, 
and tentatively observed: “Jerrold, my boy, you seem dreadfully 
pei turbed. Is it the cemetery hinges or the new calico? ” and he shot 
Jerrold a look that made him fairly bounce. 

Jerrold was not aware that anyone had observed him and Elna 
—in fact, he had been so completely absorbed in the girl that he 


304 


RED KLOVER. 


would not have noticed a sixteen-deck boat passing them. To his 
fascinated eyes, Elna Zuretta Kampion was the only visible thing in 
existence. He was all but knocked out the first round and was still 
hanging on the ropes and waiting for the final count. 

“Oh! I’m all right, Judge; I guess it’s the casket pegs,” answered 
Jerrold. “But really, I must get to bed and get a good rest or I’ll 
be in the discard to-morrow. Good-night, Judge;” and he was 
off like a Missouri swallow darting after a fly. 

“Pleasant dreams, my boy,” returned the Judge. “But don’t 
get too much charmeuse and georgette mixed up in your dreams.” 

“Ah! but youth will have its fling,” mused the Judge; “and 
more of the youngsters hang themselves with calico than in any 
other way. Y-e-s, I guess / was a bit younger myself at one time. 
But, confound it! I don’t see much chance for Nenverda (his grand- 
dauter) ever being related to the Hopkins family;” and the poor 
old boob sighed resignedly. 

Jerrold went direct to his state-room and had the cabin-boy 
bring him a pitcher of ice-water and a bottle of champagne. “Sleep 
is out of the question,” he said to himself as he closed the door 
and locked it; “so I must have company or I will be in the obser¬ 
vation ward before morning.” Then he tossed off a big glass of 
the divine stuff that just romps all over the nervous system and 
says “Howdy?” to every cell in the brain. 

An hour later Jerrold called for more ice-water, and felt com¬ 
petent to sing a solo before the League of Nations —in fact, the young 
Hopkins heir-apparent was having a real old college spree over 
calico instead of with it. However, the effects were the same—de¬ 
moralization, reaction, and— remorse. 

Jerrold was quite a bit late the next morning and in a very 
pitiable condition for breakfasting with a beautiful and charming 
young lady—his temporary chaperon. He realized that he had to 
do something and do it in a hurry and do it properly. “Oh, if I 
only had an understudy this morning!” he sighed, and then laffed 
at the absurdity of it. 

Elna was up at 6 o’clock, and made a careful and very be¬ 
coming toilet. Then she went out in the cabin and peeped in the 
dining-room at 7 o’clock. Only three men were there, quietly lin¬ 
gering over their coffee. She did not intend to go in until her protege 
was ready to accompany her. “I am a little early,” she mused 
to herself, “but I want Mr. Hopkins to know that I can get up 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


305 


early and do things.” She went out and took a turn about the deck 
and enjoyed the fresh morning air and the caroling of the birds 
in the trees. She returned to the cabin and peeped in the dining¬ 
room at 7:30, but no Jerrold was there. “Ah! he is lazy, or— 

yes, or -/ I dare not put my thots into words,” she mused. 

Then she seated herself at the piano and began to play softly with 
a master touch and soon had everybody except the Hopkins heir 
in the cabin listening with rapt attention. Even the colored cook 
and kitchen help could not help “rubbering” a little to see who 
was the author of such divine music. Then she sang several old 
love-songs that ought to have caused a wooden cigar Indian to 
leave its pedestal and join her worshipers. But no Jerrold. Elna 
was just dying of curiosity to know why he did not appear, but she 
was too wise to place her cards on the table face up by making any 
inquiries about the young man; besides, she realized that some of 
the others would soon make the inquiry and then she would know 
without appearing to be interested. Yes, Elna was some diplomat 
all right, and knew her business pretty well. 

About 10 o’clock a big pitcher of ice water was seen going to 
Jerrold’s room, and the wise ones winked in italics and said nothing 
very eloquently. Elna continued to play and sing and had soon 
captured them all, down to the cabin-boy and the captain’s profane 
parrot. About 11 o’clock Jerrold came out of his room looking like 
a Wilsonian promise and the Truth in a Republican convention. 
He merely glanced at the enraptured crowd about the singer, but 
did not join them. He sauntered out on deck and filled a long 
briar pipe with coffin-paint, and began to pollute the atmosphere. 
At 11:20 Elna picked up her novel and started for the shady side 
of the deck. The coffin-paint paged the whereabouts of Jerrold 
long before she discovered his exact location. 

“Ah! good morning, Mr. Hopkins,” said Zelna. “You must 
have had very interesting dreams last night;” and her voice had a 
pleasantly ironical edge that cut the young man to the marrow. 

“Good morning, Miss Kampion,” returned Jerrold. “I assure 
you that my dreams last night kept a ponderous foot on the gas 
all night, and they were so very pleasant that I just could not post¬ 
pone them; so I find myself a little early for dinner.” 

“Y-e-s, just a trifle early for dinner,” said Elna; “and by the 
amount of ice water that went to your room last night and this 
morning I infer that you are on the dry wagon with Bryan;” and 



30 6 


RED KLOVER . 


she gave him a look that precluded any defense except a plea of 
guilty and a request for a light or suspended sentence. He threw 
up his hands and capitulated and asked to be court-martialed and 
shot at daylight—or sooner , if convenient. 

Elna just laffed and snickered and giggled in the exasperating 
way that only a pretty girl can laff. Then she changed her tactics 
and began to mother him and coo to him, and then went and got 
her guitar and sang lullabies to soothe his ragged nerves. Just 
then dinner was announced by the cabin-boy, but they decided to 
wait till the “rush” was over before going in. She continued to 
sing and play for him, and soon he was crazier than ever about her, 
for now he realized that she was a very talented girl as well as very 
beautiful and fascinating. 

About i o’clock they went in and dined together and then 
went back to the deck for a long chat. She could see that his hu¬ 
miliation was complete, and she became so bright and animated 
and sweet and cheerful that he almost forgot his little slip of the 
night previous. “Never again!” he kept repeating to himself as 
his hungry eyes feasted on Elna. 

After about an hour of music and light chatter, Elna laid down 
her guitar and looked long and calmly into Jerrold’s eyes—without 
saying a word. He beg’an to get so nervous that she said pleasant¬ 
ly: “Mr. Hopkins, I have been looking into your soul to see what 
kind of a cargo you are carrying.” 

“Y-e-s?” said Jerrold; and he hung his head at half-mast and 
blushed painfully. 

“You have splendid ambitions, plenty of good intentions, but 
you don’t know how to keep your feet on the gas until you arrive ” 
said Elna. 

U “Well, what’s the remedy, doctor?” asked Jerrold. 

“You need someone to love you, guide you, and— boss you,” 
replied Elna; and she ga”ve him a look that was a caress and a 
challenge. 

“I believe you are right, Dr. Kampion; but where can I find 
such a strange combination?” inquired Jerrold. 

“At present you are in the observation ward , and by the time 
we reach New Orleans the doctor may be able to determine your 
mental status, and then I may be able to find such a £ strange com¬ 
bination’ for you,” replied Elna. “In the meantime your drinks 
are to be lemonade, coffee, and just ice water. Remember, you are 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


307 


chauffeur on the arid buggy” continued his self-appointed monitor. 

“Aye! aye! captain—doctor,” said Jerrold, and he got up and 
gallantly saluted Elna. Then he picked up her guitar and began 
to play an old Italian love-song with a great deal of feeling and 
emotion. Jerrold had passed thru the dark night and now the first 
faint gleam of a glorious sunrise was lighting up his regenerated soul, 
and he just had to play an accompaniment for the millions of bird 
songs that were echoing thru his heart. The arid buggy was a Seeley 
mattress now. 

Elna kept him under strict surveillance the remainder of the 
journey to the Crescent City, and by the use of her wonderful eyes 
and a liberal tip she had enlisted the cabin-boy ( Tidewater ), and he 
promised to report to her if Jerrold called for any kind of liquors; 
he had also promised not to fill such orders. With the aid of Tide¬ 
water and the co-operation of Captain White, she felt able to manage 
the young cuss. 

Jerrold and Elna were inseparable during the remainder of the 
trip. They played and sang together and took turns about reading 
to one another. Jerrold was completely captured, and it wasn’t 
necessary to put the “irons” on him, so to speak. He didn’t want 
to escape; he wanted a life sentence, and Judge Elna was prepar¬ 
ing to give him just that kind of a sentence, but she wanted to 
know more about him before taking the big chance. He tried to 
get mushy with her, but she kept up an habitual dignity and made 
him respect her and keep his place. 

“Remember, little boy, you are yet in the observation ward , 
and your medical alienist has not yet decided on your mental status,” 
said Elna. “It is your own fault that you were weak enuff to kick 
over the traces and thus land yourself in the observation ward.” 

“Right you are, O righteous judge,” said Jerrold; “and I am 
stuck on the arid buggy with Bryan glue.” 

And so the next few days slipped by, and they were both happy 
and oblivious. 

When the boat reached Vicksburg, it tied up for two hours. 
Elna told Jerrold that she had a little shopping to do and didn’t 
want him along. She made him promise not to go ashore. She 
had also restricted him to just two little old cemetery pegs a day, 
and his nerves were pawing the gas and clamoring for the nerve- 
teasers by the cartons; but she was inexorable. She considered 


308 


RED KLOVER. 


her patient worth saving and realized that the treatment must be 
more or less heroic. 

As soon as Elna got out of sight of the Water Lily (the boat), 
she made for a telegraph office and sent the following wire to her 
sister in Shreveport: 

“Mrs. Torren Smiley ,—Send complete information to me at 
New Orleans, care of the St. Charles Hotel, in regard tb Jerr old 
Jofton Hopkins. E. Z. K.” 

Some telegram and some girl, eh? To be sure. Elna Zuretta 
Kampion was a live wire, and didn’t believe in giving the grass 
under her feet any chance whatever. She had always been im¬ 
pressed with the wisdom of the old adage, “Make hay while the sun 
shines ,” and the weather at that time was very propitious for hay¬ 
making, thot this little girl of the Southland. 

Every day Jerrold got deeper in love with Elna; and when 
the myriad lights of the great Southern metropolis came to view, 
he asked point blank for permission to call on her at her sister’s. 

“Don’t be so impatient, little boy,” said Elna. “I will have 
to see sister first and square things with her and hatch up a mighty 
good tale of how I came to meet you and how we came to know 
each other so well in such a short time. I presume that you will be 
at the St. Charles Hotel and I will send you a note there as soon as 
I can arrange it properly .” 

So it was settled, and they parted at the wharf. Elna took a 
taxi for her sister’s, Mrs. Pierre Chaldeau, and Jerrold hied him¬ 
self to the St. Charles Hotel. 

Chapter III. 

KEEPING BOTH FEET ON THE GAS. 

Elna soon arrived at her sister’s beautiful little cottage out 
on Choteau Avenue. 

“Oh, sister! I met the nicest young man cm the boat,” said 
Elna. “Captain White introduced us at the table, you know, and 
he belongs to one of the oldest and best families in Shreveport, 
but he is a little wild and woolly yet, having just come home from 
college.” 

“But, Elna, you really don’t know anything about him, and 
a casual acquaintance you met on the boat is hardly the proper 
thing for a girl of your proud old lineage,” explained Mrs. Chaldeau. 
“The captain’s introduction was merely a matter of etiquette and 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


309 


business form that is customary on all boats, but is not binding in 
the least afterwards, you know. We must know more about the 
young gentleman before you can receive him socially. I will have 
Pierre make inquiries about him; or, better still, I will write to 
sister in Shreveport and have her make an investigation. If he 
really lives there and is well connected, it will be an easy matter 
to get his ancestry, antecedents, and social and financial status. A 
young girl cannot be too careful and particular. There are so many 
vulgar parvenues in the world, one must be very careful.” 

“ Of course, you dear old thing,” said Elna. “ You always were 
long on ancestry, tradition, and all that flapdoodle; but I am quite 
sure Mr. Hopkins is a gentleman and well connected. He is just a 
boy out of college and seems well educated and is quite an accom¬ 
plished musician, and I know he plays golf and tennis, and knows 
how to dine like a gentleman instead of a railroader or business man. 
He shows his breeding in his clothes, manners, looks, language—in 
fact, in everything;” and she gave her sister a big squeeze and 
tried to change the subject. 

“Nevertheless, Elna, you will have to wait till we can com¬ 
municate with Mildred” (Mrs. Smiley), said Mrs. Chaldeau. 

“Why, I have already done that, Olvey” (Mrs. Chaldeau), said 
Elna. “He was so impetuous and wanted to come and see me 
here, etc., that when the boat tied up at Vicksburg for two hours, 
I went up town to shop and sent Mildred a wire and asked her to 
look up Mr. Hopkins’ pedigree and write me here, so in a few days 
we will know more about the impetuous youngster;” and again she 
squeezed her very particular sister. 

“Why, Elna!” exclaimed Mrs. Chaldeau; “you have certainly 
got the business sense well developed.” 

“Oh! I presume I have a little sense of some kind or other,” re¬ 
plied Elna; “but you know that desperate ailments require heroic 
treatment at times, and if you knew this youngster as I do, I think 
you would agree that my haste was justified. Anyway, I have got 
to marry him or— drown him. He is very impatient of all restraint, 
and just will not be put off.” 

“Very well, dear; if Mildred’s report on the young gentleman 
is satisfactory, Pierre and I will be pleased to meet him and intro¬ 
duce the youngster to our friends,” declared Mrs. Chaldeau, with a 
note of finality in her proud voice. 

The Kampions and Chaldeaus came from a proud and dis- 


RED KLOVER. 


310 

tinguished old lineage, and they were very exclusive and particular. 

In two days Elna went to the St. Charles Hotel, and found 
quite a long letter from her sister Mildred. The portion pertain¬ 
ing to Mr. Hopkins ran thus: 

“Mr. Jerrold Jofton Hopkins, only son and co-heir with his 
sister, Miss Fannetta Moss Hopkins, of old Colonel Jerome Lam¬ 
bert Hopkins, is a young man of the very highest lineage and social 
and business connections in Shreveport. The Hopkins family is a 
very exclusive and proud old family, with the highest and best tra¬ 
ditions. The Colonel is one of the wealthiest planters in Louisiana 
and his rating is of the best and his social standing is unquestioned. 
There is no better blood or lineage in all the Southland.” 

“Ah! that will put sister over on Rainbow Avenue ,” mused 
•Elna to herself as she folded up the letter and placed it in her bosom. 

Elna had brought along some of her own private and exclusive 
stationery that had the old family coat-of-arms engraved on it and 
was perfumed with an old perfume of her family—the proud old 
Kampions of France. She now wanted to impress Mr. Hopkins 
with the fact that she was pretty well up on traditions and ancestry 
herself. She wrote him a polite and cordial note, asking him to 
call the next evening at her sister’s out on the exclusive Choteau 
Avenue. 

Jerrold called, and was very cordially received and royally en¬ 
tertained. He made an excellent impression on Elna’s relatives, 
and they introduced him into their exclusive social set, and that in 
itself was an endorsement and guarantee of his social status. 

Jerrold had forgotten that he had been sent to the city to 
merely transact a piece of business for his father and then to hurry 
home with the coveted deed in his pocket. “Oh, well!” sighed the 
happy youngster to himself, “that pesky old land deal can wait 
awhile. Charmeuse and chiffon are much more to the point any¬ 
way,” and he laffed at his own sarcasm. “Confound the luck any¬ 
way! Here I have no evening suit and only just this one business 
suit and a few changes of linen—a pretty pickle for a gentleman to 
be in who has just found the most beautiful and charming girl in 
all the world and wants to enter her elite social circles. Why didn’t 
I wear a jumper and overalls and peel potatoes in the kitchen to 
pay my way down ? Then I wouldn’t be in this infernal hole. Well, 
I have just got to have proper clothes; and it would never do to 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


311 

wire sister to send on my duds. Dad would smell a mouse right 
away and would take an airplane for the Crescent City at once. ,? 

Jerrold went and looked up the gentleman with whom he was 
to consummate the land deal, and, as luck would have it, he had 
been called out of the city the day before and would not return for 
a week. “Ah! Fate is playing my favorite music now, and I will 
just write dad a jolly letter and tell him that Mr. Forbes has been 
called out of the city and will not be back for a fortnight; and in 
the meantime I will make love to Elna and press my suit—till I 
win her—for I just must have her. Without her, the river is my 
home;’ 5 and he sighed melodramatically. 

Then Jerrold went and filled in the check for the full amount, 
seventy-five thousand dollars. He opened an account at one of 
the prominent banks, and then went to a fashionable tailor and 
gave a big order for some “decent rags,” as he facetiously termed 
it to himself. The “ decent rags ” cost more than five hundred dol¬ 
lars, but what difference did that make? Wasn’t he a Hopkins —■ 
one of the elite? and he must have the proper clothes now or he 
would lose prestige and his caste would soon have a nasty dent in 
it. “I am a Hopkins —a real gentleman and a square sport,” mused 
Jerrold. “What kind of a game could I play with tin-horn rags? 
They would think I was a crap-shooter on lower Canal Street. All 
the fellows at the St. Charles who have any gambling blood in their 
veins pitch tzventy-dollar gold-pieces for the cracks or take a respect¬ 
able flyer on the bang-tails.” 

That evening Jerrold got into a little game of twenty-doHaf 
crack-pitching and only lost six hundred dollars without the quiver 
of an eyelash. This gave him the proper rating and standing, and 
he soon became very popular and the recipient of numerous invita¬ 
tions to play golf, tennis, poker, baccarat, etc. 

In some unknown way Elna became aware of these little di¬ 
versions of Jerrold’s, and she at once put him back in the observa¬ 
tion ward and restricted his orbit and modified his regimen. 

“No more gambling, little boy; that is only another form of 
intoxication and a thru ticket to the bottom of the ladder,” said 
Elna; “besides, you ought to know that I want you to always re¬ 
main at the very top of the heap. If you will promise me on your 
word of honor as a Hopkins and a gentleman that you will cut out 
all gambling, drinking, cigaretting, and all other habits, so I can 
be justly proud of you, I will become your wife in one week from 


312 


RED KLOVER. 


to-day; but I am to be the manager, and you are to obey all my 
wishes. Can you conscientiously promise all that and keep your 
promise?” and she took both of his hands in hers and looked clear 
thru his soul. 

“Yes, Elna, I promise you all that,” answered Jerrold, “and 
I am going to be a real man this time and keep my word, because 
now you have made me very happy, and I have something in life 
worth living for. The man that couldn’t keep straight for you 
would have to be a crooked ohe indeed.” 

Then Elna gave Jerrold the one thing every man prizes above 
all else—her first kiss—and made his soul step qn the gas. 

“I suppose you will want the wedding to take place out at your 
sister’s home?” asked Jerrold, and he looked rather dubious. 

“Would that suit you, Jerrold?” returned Elna; and she read 
the perturbed state of his mind and guessed the trouble. 

“Oh! it would suit me all right enuff, I guess,” said Jerrold; 
“but what would Mrs. Chaldeau think when she found that my 
people would not be there?” and he looked anything but happy 
and clear in his own mind. 

“It surely would look dusky not to have your people attend 
your wedding,” mused Elna, “so I guess we had better pull it off 
all by ourselves down town and have a civil marriage and no fuss 
nor frills about it. Of course, sister will be properly shocked, but, 
as it is not her affair, she will get over it in time, and the same with 
your people, Jerrold.” 

“Y-e-s, I guess you are right, dear,” said Jerrold; “as it is our 
own affair, we will conduct it to suit ourselves.” 

So it was arranged, and one week later they were quietly united 
in marriage by the county judge. They had their arrangements 
made to take a tr ; p to Chicago. The ceremony took place at II 
o’clock a. m. and at 2 o’clock that afternoon they left for St. Louis 
on the Vicksburg , one of the finest boats on the river. Three days 
later they arrived in St. Louis, and within a few hours departed by 
train for Chicago. They didn’t even stop long enuff in St. Louis 
to go and visit her parents—in fact, Elna just couldn’t think up 
an excuse that would go with her parents. They were well-bred 
and proud people, and would want to know why she didn’t come 
home and be married in the usual way; so, for the time being, they 
passed up all their relatives. 

Elna wrote a short note to Madame Chaldeau informing her 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


3 i 3 


sister that she had taken a very romant'c and sudden step by mar¬ 
rying Mr. Hopkins and that everything was all right, except that 
his parents would be more or less upset and want explanations. 
Madame Chaldeau and her excitable French husband were prop¬ 
erly shocked all right. 

On the trip up the river, Jerrold also wrote his father a letter 
announcing his sudden marriage, and assured the “governor” that 
he had won a treasure and that everything was all right, and that 
after a short honeymoon trip up the lakes, they would return to 
New Orleans and close up the land deal, and then come home. He 
didn’t say a word about the check he cashed in New Orleans, but 
the Colonel soon learned of it thru his bankers in Shreveport. They 
asked him point-blank if it was all right. “Why, certainly it is all 
right!” indignantly replied the old planter—game to the last. He 
felt like wringing the youngster’s neck, but his thots were not for 
the outside world—that was a private ajfair that did not concern 
anyone but the Hopkins family. 

Jerrold discovered that traveling with a wife is a bit expens- 
lve when one travels first-class and doesn’t have to worry about 
money matters. 

Jerrold and Elna took a trip up the lake to Charlevoix and then 
returned to Chicago by the way of Detroit. When they got back 
to the Windy City, Jerrold took stock of his finances and found that 
he only had a little more than thirty thousand dollars left out of 
the seventy-five thousand dollars his father had given him for the 
purchase of that timber land. 

While up in Charlevoix he tried to recoup his diminishing pile 
by the roulette route and lost eight thousand dollars one afternoon. 
Then in Detroit the State Fair was in operation, and Jerrold yielded 
to his old passion for betting on the ponies—ten thousand more 
dwindled away. Then a poker game in the smoking-room of the 
Pullman and three thousand dollars more disappeared. Everything 
seemed to be against him, but, like all gamblers, he clung to the hope 
that Fate would favor him soon. He confessed to his wife when 
they reached Chicago on the homeward trip that he had been a 
fool, and in trying to win enuff to replace the money belonging to 
the “governor” he had lost heavily. 

“I just can’t go home and face the ‘governor’ unless I can 
make good what I have lost and have a deed for that confounded 


3 H 


RED KLOVER. 


timber land he wants so badly. What will we do, Elna?” he asked, 
and he searched her face for a remedy. 

“Why, we will locate right here, and both of us will go to work 
and save up our earnings until we can replace the money you so 
foolishly lost,” replied Elna; and her look had a tone of finality 
about it. 

“Why, what on earth could you do, dear?” Jerrold asked. 
“You are only a girl anyway, and so small and frail;” and he looked 
at her in alarm and bewilderment. 

“Never you mind about poor little me” said Elna. “I will be 
able to do my part in making good your losses.” 

Chapter IV. 

HOUSEKEEPING AND WORKING. 

When they returned to Chicago they registered at the Con¬ 
gress Hotel and engaged a suite of rooms that only cost them twen¬ 
ty dollars a day—without meals.. They had been there eight days 
when Elna found a neat little five-room cottage away out on Cot¬ 
tage Grove Avenue; it only cost them thirty-five dollars a month; 
that seemed very economical after the way they had been living. 
It only took a trifle of two thousand dollars to furnish the cottage, 
and two thousand five hundred dollars got them quite a respectable- 
looking car. They decided that they would squeeze along with 
only one servant for the present—a girl-of-all-work. By thus liv¬ 
ing so economically, they could surely save up a little, and thus 
soon be able to “replace the money Jerrold had—had borrowed 
from his father,” declared Elna to her husband. 

The third day after getting settled in their new home they 
got up early (9:40) and after breakfast they made out a list of de¬ 
sirable jobs and started out to look .them up. 

Elna answered an advertisement for a governess and ladies’ 
maid combined. After making fourteen mistakes in changing cars, 
she finally reached the right place—a big and sleepy-looking man¬ 
sion out on the North Shore Drive. A very pompous and English- 
looking butler, with the regulation side-whiskers and official dig¬ 
nity, admitted her and told her to wait in the front hall. He didn’t 
ask her to sit down. He sensed that she was only a servant seek¬ 
ing work, and servants were expected to stand at attention. Elna 
seated herself in a comfortable rocker and was looking over a mag- 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


3 i 5 

azine when the mistress entered and hautily surveyed her thru a 
lorgnette and said: 

“You are in answer to my advertisement for a maid and gov¬ 
erness?” and she tried to impress Elna with her lofty importance. 

“Perhaps,” laconically replied Elna, without even rising. 

“Perhaps!” exclaimed the mistress. “Is that the way to ad¬ 
dress a prospective employer?” and she fairly bridled with astonish¬ 
ment and anger. 

“Sit down, madame!” saucily returned Elna in perfect French. 
“You are too heavy to stand up while you are talking; besides, I 
am not at all certain that you would please me, for I am awfully 
particular about my associates.” 

The woman fairly gasped and turned purple with rage—such 
insolence she had never encountered before. 

“How many have you in your family, madame?” went on 
Elna without deigning to note madame’s choler. “You see, I am 
not used to big families, and if the kids were not well behaved, I 
should probably strangle them. And can you give me any refer¬ 
ences from the last, girl who goved and chaped for you?” and she 
gave madame a saucy look that caused her to summon the butler. 

“James, show this impossible young person the way out!” she 
commanded, and tilted her parvenu nose at just the right angle 
for North Side society. 

As Elna was slowly making her exodus she ran right into mad¬ 
ame’s husband, who was just returning from his office in one of the 
big packing-houses. Monsieur was about thirty-eight years old 
and a rather fine-looking young gentleman, who had an appetite 
for chicken. Elna made a big hit with monsieur right away. 

“Beg pardon, miss, but I will have to confess that I can’t re» 
call your name. Won’t you tarry awhile longer, that I may have 
the pleasure of your acquaintance?” he said. Then, turning to 
the butler, he asked: “James, what is the matter, anyway?” and 
he looked James over quizzically. The butler had a poker face and 
betrayed nothing. 

“I was just showing mademoiselle out when you—collided with 
her,” answered James, and he bowed to just the proper degree. 

“James, show that person out!” commanded madame, returning to 
the vestibule. 

“Hold on there, James!” countermanded monsieur. “What’s the 
meaning of these theatricals anyway? Calm yourself, Mildred!” “Come 


RED KLOVER. 


3 l6 

into the sitting-room, miss, and let’s have your version of the affair;” and he 
took Elna by the arm and led her to the elegant and spacious parlor. 

“Robert,” said madame, this impossible young person was so im¬ 
pudent and ill-bred to Meee that I ordered James to show her out!” and 
she glared at the girl bale fully. 

“All right. Miss—” 

“Elna,” quietly supplied Elna, with a merry twinkle in her soft 
Southern eyes that only acted like a red cloth does to a Spanish bull. 

“Very well, Miss Elna; let’s have your version of the affair;” and 
he gave his wife a look that she dared not disregard. 

“Well, I saw her advertisement for a governess and maid and an¬ 
swered it. Your old bad-mannered butler did not ask me to sit down 
while he summoned his mistress, but, as I was tired, I just had sense enuff 
left to sit down and rest myself while she was coming to me. Then she 
came in and tried to pull all that grand dame English dignity stuff on me, 
and I just wouldn’t stand for it. I punctured her tire and let her know 
that I’m a regular human being and must be treated as such,” arid she 
gave madame an impudent look that was plainly a challenge. 

Madame’s face went into the purple degree and she started to jump 
on the gas again, but just then the two children came running in, and as 
soon as they saw Elna and caught her sweet smile they both made a bee¬ 
line for the girl, and she gathered them both up in her arms and just 
squeezed and loved them. The little girl was five and the boy a little 
past six. 

“Oh, papa!” exclaimed Wilver (the boy), “is this our new gov¬ 
erness?” and he continued to squeeze and love Elna. 

“Yes, Wilver, this is your new governess, and you must be awfully 
nice to her—or she’ll go away and leave us,” and monsieur gave his wife 
a look that said plainly: “Madame, I'm the master of my own home.” 

“But, Robert,” wildly protested his wife, “the creature is simply im¬ 
possible! I’ll not have her! James—” 

“James, go and see that dinner is served at once!” countermanded 
monsieur, and James obeyed. 

Madame got up and pompously rumbled out of the room like the 
gentle gait of a steam-roller at a national convention. Elna, just for 
spite, decided to stay awhile just to spite madame. The children were 
simply wild about her, and their father was not much behind. “Do you 
play any. Miss Elna?” he asked, and waved his hand toward the piano. 
“A little,” she answered, and got up and went to the grand old Steinway 
and just turned herself loose and fairly burned up the keyboard with her 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


3i7 


fairy fingers; and oh, how the little devil did sing! The butler forgot his 
whiskers and dignity and all the servants were rubbering to see the new 
“ governess," as they called her among themselves. They all knew of the 
little tilt with madame, and everyone was on Elna’s side. Robert was 
simply charmed, for he had a passionate love for music and played the 
violin fairly well himself; he also had a good bass voice. 

After Elna had finished her second song, the butler announced din¬ 
ner, and Mr. Pelvers led Elna into the elegant dining-room. They dined 
alone, for his wife ordered her dinner served in her private room. She 
refused to come down until Elna had departed, and that just suited Mr. 
Robert Pelvers to a t, for he was already falling hard for Elna, 'and it is 
so aggravatingly difficult for a man to fall gracefully and properly for a 
pretty girl when his wife is present. Mr. Pelvers took it for granted that 
Elna would stick and take the job as governess—but he did not knotV Elna. 
After enjoying an excellent dinner and some high-brow champagne with 
just the proper soft and mellow soul-kick in it, she again played and sang, 
and the children were delighted and bellowed lustily when they saw Elna 
leave. 

“No, Mr. Pelvers, it would be quite out of the question for me to 
take a position under your wife. So far as pou and the children are con¬ 
cerned, I should be pleased to remain and do the work, but I could never 
take orders from that impossible woman,’’ and she pronounced and accented 
the word the way Mrs. Pelvers had done. 

“Say, how would you like a stage position?’’ exclaimed Mr. Pel¬ 
vers hopefully. 

“Just the thing I’ve always wanted to do,’’ replied Elna enthusias¬ 
tically. 

“I have a friend who is manager of a theater here,’’ continued Mr. 
Pelvers, “and I know he could take you on, for he was telling me yester¬ 
day that their leading lady was sick and had gone to the hospital for an 
operation. I’ll call him the first thing in the morning, and if you will 
come to my office at 12 tomorrow noon, I’ll introduce you to him and give 
you the proper recommendation?’’ 

“Very kind of you, Monsieur Pelvers, and I’ll be there and meet 
your friend,’’ assented Elna. 

The next morning Pelvers got up earlier than usual and hurried to 
his office and soon had Mr. Silvers Pendleton, the veteran theatrical man¬ 
ager, on the gab-wire. “To be sure, Bob, I need a girl badly, responded 
Mr. Pendleton, “and if she is all that you claim for her, I’m in luck. I’ll 
be right there on the dot’’—and he was. He was delighted with Elna s 


RED KLOVER. 


3i8 

fresh and youthful appearance, and her great beauty made him fairly 
gasp; but when the three of them had heard her play and sing, he was 
ready to sign her up. 

“Very good, Miss Sembrose ,” said Mr. Pendleton; “I’ll take you on 
and start you at $300 a week, and if you make good like I think you 
can, there will be more salary coming your way. Can you be at rehearsal 
this afternoon at 2 o’clock?’’ 

“W-h-y, yes, I reckon so,’’ answered Elna, and she blushed like a 
wild rose. 

“Aren’t you from the South, Miss Sembrose?” continued the manager. 

“Yes—from New Orleans, and my people are all French and 
Southerners,” returned Elna in French. 

Elna just couldn’t bring herself to give her own name of Hopkins, 
and that was why she gave the name of Sembrose. She was billed as 
“Mile. Elnece Sembrose, the wonderful pianiste and singer—the new 
Southern star that has just arisen over Chicago .” She acquitted herself 
with the highest honors at the rehearsal that afternoon and then hurried 
home to tell the news to Jerrold. He might not approve of having his 
wife a stage beauty to be impudently stared at by the audience and sought 
by all the stage-door Johnnies, but “it’s his own fault—he should not have 
been so foolish and reckless,” mused Elna to herself on the way home. 
She reached their cottage at 5 o’clock and at once told Gulhundy (the 
Swede girl) to have supper ready by 6, as she had an engagement for that 
night and must leave by 7 for the theater. At a quarter of 6 Jerrold came 
in looking happy and hopeful. 

“Well, what luck, Jerrold?” asked Elna as she drew his head down 
and kissed him with an old-timey Red River kiss. 

“Splendid, sweetheart mine!” and he gathered her in his arms and 
kissed her as tho she were an affinity or a stenographer. “I met Hartley 
Fenners, an old college chum, and his father is the president of a big trust 
company here, and they just happened to need a cashier to take the place 
of the old one, who died of the influenza; so he introduced and recom¬ 
mended me and I get the job right away—in the morning. Three hundred 
a month to start with—that’s just fine, sweetheart, and if we live carefully, 
I know we can soon make good and square up the score with the governor,” 
and he looked as happy as a school-boy in his first high-top boots with a 
circus ticket in his pocket. “What luck did you have, dear?” and he was 
puzzled at the look of amusement on Elna’s face. 

“Oh! fair, I reckon,” Elna answered; “they’re going to give me a 
try-out down at the X-O-V Theater tonight, and if I make good, I’ll get 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


3*9 

some salary I reckon;” and she looked so sheepish and happy he did not 
know what to make of it. 

‘‘Try you out at the theater?” he fairly gasped. ‘‘Why, I didn’t 
know you were an actress P” 

‘‘Well, Jerrold, I’m not exactly an actress yet,” was her reply, ‘‘but 
I believe I can make good. You see I can play and sing a little, and pou 
never saw me try to act; I may be able to surprise you. Anyhow, I’m en¬ 
gaged at a trifle of $300 a week to start with, and if I make good and 
put it across, I may be able to coax down some real salary;” and she 
struck a Shakespearean and Bernhardt attitude that was most laffable. 
‘‘If you’re a real good little boy, I may let you go along with me tonight. 
Jerrold, I thot it best to not give my own name, so I’ll be Mile. Elnece 
Sembrose, Pianiste and Singer ,” on the billboards and programs, and don’t 
you go and forget and give it away either;” and she gave him a look that 
couldn’t be blue-penciled. 

Elna made a tremendous hit that night and was encored and called 
back till the manager would not let her respond any more. After one 
week he raised her salary to $500 a week. Every night Elna became 
more and more of a favorite. 

Everything went along nicely, and Elna was putting her salary in a 
bank; they lived on Jerrold’s salary, and saved one hundred of that, and 
Elna deposited it with her salary—in a bank that her husband did not 
know of. She realized that she could not trust him and she feared he 
might ‘‘blow out a tire” any time and relapse back to his old habits of 
gambling—in an effort to get rich quick. He was fretting dreadfully 
because his father did not even deign to write to him. Nothing cuts like 
silence at times—it is a blade that has an icy edge, and Jerrold grew very 
restive and unhappy under its merciless gruelling. ‘‘If the Governor would 
only write and bless me out, or have me pinched, or something, I could 
bear it much better—but this infernal silence is what gasses my goat!” he 
thot, and looked very miserable. The way of the transgressor never was 
much of a Seeley mattress, and Jerrold was finding it out for himself. He 
didn’t like the medicine and was about to kick over the traces again. 

‘‘Even if everything continues as now,” he said to himself, ‘‘with the 
$2,100 a month that Elna is saving up for the Governor it will take about 
three years to get enuff to replace the $75,000 I borrowed from him. 
Hell! that’s too slow; besides, Elna will have to give up her job in about 
three months more, and then she won’t be able to go back, even if they 
want her then, for about a year after the youngster comes; and I’m getting 
jolly good and tired of living on a paltry little $200 a month for the three 


RED KLOVER. 


320 

of us, and soon there’ll be four in our family; and then all the expense of 
the doctor and a nurse, etc., and another thousand will be following the 
wild geese north,” and so he mused from day to day. 

They had to get up at the beastly hour of seven, or, at least, he did, 
and hurry like blazes to get down to the bank in time; and in the evening, 
when he was off duty and would have liked to enjoy some social life 
with his wife, she had to be away off down there at that playhouse— 
being admired by a lot of cheap Johnnies and made love to in the plays 
on the stage; and that damned leading man, Roderick Beverly Blackmere, 
was a deucedly handsome young fellow anyway, and it was very galling 
to have to remain at home or go off and amuse himself, and to picture his 
Elna, his own little wife, in that scoundrel’s arms, was anything but satis¬ 
factory. He soon decided to find a shorter and better way out of their 
troubles. 

Chapter V. 

BLOWING OUT A TIRE. 

The more Jerrold thought of his “hard luck," as he termed it, the 
more dissatisfied he became. ‘‘If Elna only had a job where she would 
not have to fall into that man’s arms every night and promise to wed him, 
it wouldn’t be so bad,” mused Jerrold; ‘‘but if she had almost any other 
job, she would only be earning about $25 a week—a mere nothing.” Any 
way he turned his problem around and looked at it, it was disheartening. 

Things drifted along, and Elna became more and more popular at 
the theater—not only with the audiences, but with the players; and to 
make things more embarrassing, Mr. Roderick Beverly Blackmere, the 
leading man, was really in love with Elna and doing his best to win her 
love and hand in marriage. One mistake she had made was in telling them 
that she was a 1 vidorv. Mr. Blackmere, believing that she was unmarried, 
pressed his suit vigorously, and while she did not actually resent his atten¬ 
tions, she held him at a distance and he simply could not make a bit of 
headway. 

‘‘If I tell the boobs the truth that I have a husband, they will all 
turn against me for deceiving them, and when the story leaks out. I’ll not 
be half so popular, and maybe Mr. Pendleton will discharge me. I just 
must hold the job and thus help Jerrold, dear old Jerrold, to recoup his 
losses and get his head above the waves again. Then we can step on the 
gas a little and have our names paged in the society columns.” Thus the 
faithful little soul reasoned to herself when alone with her thots and soul. 

After the holidays she had to quit the theater and go into retirement in 
her own little cottage; and oh, how she thot and planned for the event and 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


321 


their future! “It just must be clear and illustrious and our baby must have 
no stain on its name.’’ Ah, how like a mother! Anything that threatens 
their offspring gets under their epidermis and smarts clear into the soul. 

She tried to be patient and optimistic and did her best to keep her 
husband cheerful and hopeful, but he was of a different mould and had 
an eye for clouds. “I just know she’ll never be able to get back her job at 
the theater, and a mother with a kid won’t be much of an attraction any¬ 
way, and the manager will be quick to realize the fact. He might use her 
for atmosphere in the ballet at $25 per, and that would break her heart 
sure. Damn it! I must find some other way to get our heads above the 
water,” and his musings became more dismal and pessimistic. 

Things ran along in the same rut and the baby made its appearance the 
last of the following May. The youngster was a beautiful little girl and had 
all the best of both parents’ features. It was all and more than they 
hoped for, and its coming greatly changed Elna and gave her a new 
viewpoint in life. She was very happy, and if Jerrod would only behave 
himself and not make any more foolish breaks, they would soon be on the 
right side of Life’s old ledger again. Instead of Jerrold being pleased 
with his dauter, as any sane and normal man would have been, he rather 
resented the whole business. He considered it an unfortunate circum¬ 
stance at the present time, for it complicated their affairs dreadfully and 
made it all the harder to get in the clear again. 

Elna had merely told Mr. Pendleton that her mother was near death’s 
door and the doctors had advised that there was no chance for her re¬ 
covery after the operation. ^ She could live but a few months, and had 
begged her dauter to come home and be with her during her last days. 
No manager, unless he was an exceedingly hard-boiled one, could disre¬ 
gard a request like that. Of course, the yarn about her mother’s condition 
was pure fiction she invented as an excuse for quitting a position where she 
was an idol and doing so well. “Very well. Miss Sembrose; we shall ex¬ 
pect you to return at the earliest moment, and I hope your mother gets 
well,” and he turned away as he tried to swallow something that seemed 
several sizes too large for his oesophagus. 

Elna bade them all a tearful farewell, and tried to avoid Mr. Black- 
mere entirely, but he was the last to grasp her hand and silently press it. 
He merely mumbled: “We shall all be so lonesome without you—hurry 
back.” “I shall miss you all, my dear friends and comrades, and I hope 
to soon be back with you again.” That was all, and she felt ill at ease 
with herself for having to deceive them; “but I had to do it,” she assured 
herself. 


322 


RED KLOVER. 


Things drifted out at the cottage and at the bank until the last of 
July, when Mr. Andrew Baker Fenners and his family departed for a 
six weeks’ sojourn in the Adirondacks. Mr. Fenners came down to the 
bank Friday forenoon and told Jerrold that he was going to practically 
leave the management of the whole institution in his hands, and warned 
the young man to look after things carefully and see that everything was 
properly locked up and in place before leaving the bank in the evenings. 
“I shall keep an eye out for everything, sir,” said Jerrold, ‘‘and I anticipate 
no trouble, for I’m sure you have an excellent set of employees and there 
is no friction among us, as so often happens,” and he shook the president’s 
hand as they parted. Jerrold felt the importance of the extra trust placed 
in him by their president, and he intended to give a good account of his 
stewardship; but alas! all human flesh has its limit of endurance—and also 
has its limits in the amount of temptation it can stand. 

Jerrold felt very important now that he was the big finger of the in¬ 
stitution. He soon discovered how easy it would be to *7oan” himself big 
amounts of the bank’s funds. In the morning paper one day about the 
center of August he read a very fascinating story of a young plunger in the 
pit who made a lucky strike the day before and had cleaned up more than 
a half million. “Whew!” exclaimed Jerrold to himself as he read and re¬ 
read the story. “Why can’t I take a flyer in the pit and make a killing and 
be able to straighten up my affairs at once?” He pondered over the mat¬ 
ter for two whole days and most of two nights. As it would happen, the 
young man who had made such lucky plunges in the pit came in the bank 
one afternoon just before closing time and deposited a hundred thousand 
he had made that day in sugar. “Rather a sweet plunge?” he facetiously 
observed to Jerrold, who received the money and issued him a bank-book 
and told him they were pleased to have such customers as he was. 

The next day Jerrold “ borrowed ” $75,000 from the bank and sent 
it to his father by express. “There! that little mistake is rectified, and 
maybe the Governor, the dear proud Governor, will write to a fellow 
now,” and he seemed about ten years younger. “The president will not 
return for a month yet, and if I can’t win that little old amount back be¬ 
fore he arrives, I deserve to be pinched and executed,” and he swelled 
up like sugar prices and hotel rates. 

The next day, during the noon hour, he took $50,000 out of the till 
and slipped over in the pit and took a flyer on sugar. He won a paltry 
$20,000, and this just put the lava in his blood. He plunged again the 
next day on oil stock and slipped back $30,000. This little mishap added 
a few chunks of ice to his blood. The next two weeks he played the 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


323 

market with varying success—one time he almost won out—the entire 
$75,000 , and his spirits were walking along on the snow-capped ridgepole 
of the Rockies. Then his “/uc£,” as he called it, began to slip, and soon 
he was $175,000 toward the cemetery. “This will never do!” he de¬ 
clared over his last loss. “I simply don’t know enuff about the game 
to play it successfully, and I am going to quit it right now and change 
climates, and the changing has got to be done while the Old Man is away; 
after he comes back he’ll want to go over everything with me and check 
up to see that all is well.’’ 

That was Thursday night after supper. The next day was Friday 
and Saturday was Labor Day, a legal holiday, and the bank would not 
open. Friday evening Jerrold “Wronged” $300,000, and he sent Elna 
$30,000 of it and a note telling her what he had done. 

“You can wait for me or do as you like, but I just couldn’t stand 
the strain any longer. I am going to make the money to square up with 
the bank, if they don’t get me, and then it’s me for the straight and narrow 
path—the road that has no thorns nor pitfalls. I’ll not dare to communi¬ 
cate with you, or they will trace me thru my letters. I love you, little 
sweetheart-wife, and will yet make good—if you have faith in me and wait. 
I sent back the $75,000 that belonged to the Governor, and thank God 
that is squared up and I can once more go home and look my people in 
the face. Kiss the baby for me, and sometime I hope to be a credit to 
both of you. Your loving husband, 

“Jerrold.’’ 

Chapter VI. 

THE DISCOVERY OF JERROLD’S FLIGHT. 

Labor Day was a big help to the fleeing cashier, for the bank would 
not open at all that Saturday; so he would have from 3 p. m. Friday till 
1 0 a. m. Monday before his defalcation and flight would be discovered. 
Almost three days—a pretty good start from a place like Chicago. Of 
course, the papers got the story and exploited it and lingered over it like 
a buzzard tarries over its carrion. The bank knew Jerrold by his right 
name and had his address. The officers and reporters were soon out to 
the cottage to interview his wife, and it didn’t take the reporters and de¬ 
tectives long to recognize in Elna the late ingenue, Mile. Elnece Sembrose. 
This was a rich morsel for their papers and they played it up on the front 
pages with “stud-hoss type,’* as they call it in Kentucky printing shops. 
The theatrical people were surprised, but not shocked. They were pro¬ 
foundly sorry for Elna, and called on her and proffered their sympathy 
and help. “Ah! now I understand,’’ was the way Mr. Blackmere phrased 


324 


RED KLOVER. 


it when speaking to Elna. She was very grateful to them, but did not 
need any help—in a financial way, of course. She needed sympathy and 
companionship, and Mr. Pendleton tried to persuade her to return, “and 
bring the baby along and we’ll make a great star out of her,” is the way 
he put it. “I thank you all very much for your kindness, but I could never 
go back there and be the laffing-stock of all the coarse fools and smart 
guys,” said Elna, with a tone of finality in her voice. 

Jerrold went direct to Milwaukee, and he met an old turfman there 
who was just ready to start for the Minnesota State Fair at Minneapolis. 
Jerrold had disguised himself as a gambler and turfman, and no one ever 
dreamed that he was the eloping cashier from Chicago on whose head was 
a reward of $25,000. They reached the Mill City on Sunday evening, 
and stopped at the same place—a rooming-house of the better type and in 
a respectable part of town. This suited Jerrold to a t, for he knew he 
would be looked for at the best hotels. The races are always the big 
gambling event at all these fairs, and many a boob has gone broke trying 
to pick the right nag. 

The old turfman was old enuff to be Jerrold’s grandfather and had 
taken a strange liking to the boy. He gave Jerrold many tips. The cashier 
played all these tips and won seven times out of eight. He cleaned up a little 
more than $50,000, and liked the Swede city so well that he was tempted 
to locate and become a citizen; but he realized the hounds would soon be 
on his trail. “My only safety is to keep moving and always be a few 
jumps ahead of them. If I can only win enuff to pay the bank and 
square up with them, I’ll soon be in the clear,” mused the lad to himself 
as he quietly departed for Butte, Montana, without even bidding the old 
turfman good-bye. He liked Butte and remained two days, and won 
$7,680 at roulette. He would have taken a flyer in mining stock, but he 
couldn’t stay to look after it; so he passed that up and moved on to Spokane, 
Washington. Here he lost $400 at poker and swore he would never try 
that game again. He drifted on to Seattle and tarried here four days on 
account of the State Fair. Here he was lucky with the bang-tails and won 
$64,870. Here he planted his money in five different banks, and then, 
with only $1 5,000, he moved on up to Vancouver by boat. He liked this 
town and was strongly inclined to locate and become a useful citizen, but— 
he felt that continuous traveling was the best remedy to avoid people he 
did not want to meet. While in Vancouver he lost $1 7,000 the first two 
days, and then plunged and came up smiling with $54,630. Then the 
wanderlust germs took up a homestead in his blood and he sailed for Frisco. 
Here he lost $20,000, and a little later won $34,652. Los Angeles was 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


325 


his next stop, and here he bit $22,780 out of some real-estate sharks that 
had him picked for a tenderfoot. He was so strongly impressed that a 
wanderlust victim was following him, or rather playing the same circuit, that 
he doubled back to Frisco and picked up $540 at roulette and then shipped 
to Hongkong. 

He had a very pleasant trip, and only dropped $740 in a friendly 
game of draw poker with some missionaries that were going to China to 
save the “heathen” of those sinful places. “Well, the ‘heathen’ have my 
sympathy anyway,” he mused to himself just before landing. Three days 
in the great Celestial city convinced him that it was no place for a gentle¬ 
man or crook unless they understood the language and knew the mysteries 
of fan-tan and how to use opium artistically. Tokio seemed to be calling 
him by wireless, and here he met some interesting American and English 
gentlemen who knew a few gentlemanly games, like bridge whist, pinochle, 
poker, baccarat, golf, tennis, etc. His luck was against him at first, and 
then it changed and he cleaned up a little pin-money ($17,485) before 
sailing for Manila. He liked Manila, for the natives and those acclimated 
had a lazy and languid way about them that reminded him of the people 
of Louisiana. Here luck was with him, and he made a killing of $97,542 
in four days. As he had a sweet tooth, he got the first boat for Honolulu 
—the land of eternal summer, flies, foliage, sugar, scarcity of clothes, and 
the ukulele. He took a dip in sugar here, and cleaned up $54,786 in four 
days. Then he saw a big boat from Sidney preparing to start back home, 
and as the band was playing “Farewell to Thee,” he decided to pull his 
freight at once. In due time he landed in the very interesting capital of 
New South Wales. Here and in Adelaide and Melbourne he discovered 
that all games must be played fairly as became square sports. “No mis¬ 
sionary could get a look-in down here,” thot Jerrold to himmself. From 
Melbourne he sent back to the bank in Chicago $250,000 and a brief 
note requesting the officials to keep their lingerie on and be patient and he 
would come across with the balance of the “loan.” He sent the money to 
Chicago a few hours before he embarked for Auckland, New Zealand. 
Here we will leave the gentlemanly cashier for awhile, until we can go 
back to Chicago and see how things are coming on. 

Chapter VII. 

I THE PURSUIT AND REWARD. 

Wben the other employees arrived at the bank that memorable Mon¬ 
day morning and found how matters stood, they immediately wired the 
president and he came on at once. The amount the cashier had borrowed 


RED KLOVER. 


326 

did not seriously interfere with the bank’s business, and with the prompt 
assistance of the other banks the institution was able to keep its doors open 
and resume business. “The damned little pippin!’’ was the presidents 
comment when he reached the bank about noon and learned the full facts 
of the case. 

Then the president called out at the cottage and had an interview 
with Elna, and she promptly turned over the $50,000 that Jerrold had sent 
her on the eve of his departure. 

“Well, this helps some, and that only leaves $1 75,000 he owes us,” 
kindly remarked Mr. Fenners. “For your sake, Mrs. Hopkins, I dislike 
to prosecute him, but the case is already in the hands of the law and I can¬ 
not now stop it without compounding a felony, you know,” and he looked 
genuinely sorry. 

“I cannot expect any mercy from you all,” sighed Elna, and she hung 
her pretty head at half-mast. 

Mr. Fenners employed the son of his old school-mate, Mr. Ralvert 
Stacy Chase, to run down Jerrold and bring the wandering little cuss to 
book. Ralvert Stacy Chase had only had two years’ experience in the 
business with a big detective agency, but had already earned a reputation 
and was considered one of the best in the business. He was only twenty- 
five years old, and was well educated and understood half a dozen lan¬ 
guages. He had an uncanny faculty for finding trails where none existed 
—to ordinary detective talent. He was also fond of traveling and knew 
most of the world already. He had no wife nor family ties and the wan¬ 
derlust germs were strong in his blood. He was also an accomplished 
musician and played several instruments and sang well. He had had two 
years on the stage and knew the make-up business to a t. 

“Just the man for the job,” mused Mr. Fenners as he recalled the 
young man’s unusual fitness for the job. “Now, Mr. Chase, I’ll pay you 
$25,000 cash if you catch the cuss and bring him back here for trial; in 
addition to that. I’ll pay the expenses of the trip and give you 1 0 per cent 
of all our money you recover from him. We want him and we are deter¬ 
mined to have him. I’m a member of the Bankers’ Association, and we 
all chip in and cover the expenses of apprehending every employee who be¬ 
trays his trust. We believe in making an example of these fellows, and 
thus deterring others who may be inclined to kick over the traces. And 
every case you win your stock will appreciate accordingly; so get busy and 
keep your nose to the trail.” 

Mr. Chase was provided with a photograph of Jerrold and a minute 
description of him. He was particularly interested in knowing where the 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


327 


fleeing cashier was born and raised and all about his people—where he 
went to college, his fads and tastes, the kind of clothes and ties he wore, 
his musical talents if any, the kind of amusements he preferred, his tastes 
in reading, etc. 

“What has his birthplace got to do with it, Mr. Chase?” asked Mr. 
Fenners, with a gleam of curiosity in his steel-blue eyes. 

“Considerable. All persons reared in the Southern States have a keen 
desire to see the North, and Louisianians, Mississippians, and Texans have 
a particularly strong desire to visit the Northwest,” quietly declared the 
trailer; “so I’ll start in by going to St. Paul and Minneapolis, for I feel 
sure of finding a trail in the Twin Cities. Then he’ll probobly aim for 
Seattle, Vancouver, Frisco, Los Angeles, and then to Japan and China; 
then to the Philippines, Hawaii, and Australia.” 

“Heavens!” gasped the president; “I’d hate to have you on my trail” 
—and they both laffed. 

Mr. Chase was well provided with credentials and travelers’ checks, 
money, etc., and was soon on his way to the Twin Cities. He put in a 
day and a half and finally found a trail in Minneapolis among the turf¬ 
men. He knew Jerrold’s weakness for the ponies, roulette, and the games 
of chance. The only thing that puzzled him was the fact that the cashier 
could not be traced to any of the highbrow hotels. “He’s certainly a little 
smooth here,” mused the detective to himself. “He knows that a man of 
large means would naturally be looked for at the first-class hotels and thea¬ 
ters. Some fox all right, and I must remember that to his credit. It never 
pays to underrate your adversary,” wisely mused the sleuth. “As the fair is 
over, he’ll probably move on, and as he is well aware that someone is 
after him, he’ll not linger long in any one place—unless he’s a fool, and it 
will hardly do to place the boob in that category.” 

Chase did not deem it worth while to stop off in Butte; so he went on 
to Spokane, and soon picked up the trail. Then he hurried on to Seattle, 
but here Jerrold had so carefully covered up his $-webbed feet that it took 
Chase nearly three days to get a trace. He was chagrined to find that 
the cashier had only three days the start of him out of Seattle. In leaving 
Seattle the cashier resorted to a clever trick that threw the detective clear 
off the trail. Jerrold bought a ticket to Frisco and appeared in his own 
person without any disguise. He departed on the train as tho the whole 
world were lovely and no detectives in existence. As the train slowed down 
for a railroad crossing out about four miles he dropped off and went into a 
grove and changed his appearance; then back to town, and that evening 
he left on a boat for Vancouver. The detective went on to Frisco and 


328 


RED KLOVER. 


spent nearly three days before he smelled a rodent. Then he beat it back 
to Seattle, and soon found the trick that had been played on him. He had 
much difficulty in picking up the trail in the British city, but finally found 
the right trail. Here Jerrold had tried the same train trick by buying a 
ticket to Seattle and leaving open and undisguised on the morning train for 
Seattle. “Hm! some heap right smart fox!” laffed the detective to him¬ 
self; ‘‘but he will only be wasting good money on railroad tickets—so far 
as I’m concerned.” 

And so on thru the Orient he traced the cashier. When Chase reached 
Melbourne, he met with an aggravating accident that laid him up for about 
five weeks. He was run into by a car and his right leg broken. Of 
course, he could have used the wireless and had his bird headed off and 
held, but he was a game and square sport and scorned to have any help; 
besides, he wanted all the glory himself, and he was enjoying the trip and 
learning many valuable things that would be an asset ever afterward. His 
expenses were paid; so why hurry? ‘‘A cat never calls in other cats to 
help it catch a mouse,” mused the detective to himself while in the surf at 
Sidney one evening; ‘‘so why should I call in help to capture one poor little 
mouse that is traveling so fast he’ll soon run out of territory and cork him¬ 
self?” Not a bad observation at all. 

Jerrold left Auckland for Lima, Peru; then to Santiago, Chili; then 
to Buenos Aires. He tarried in the Argentine metropolis more than a 
week, and cleaned up $28,765. Five hundred dollars of this amount he 
won on a chicken-fight; in fact, Jerrold was getting to be some sport and 
would take a chance on almost anything—except women and missionaries. 
His next move was down to Rio de Janeiro. He liked this lazy, dreamy, 
poetic old burg, and could find every kind of a game from cockroach- 
fights, bull-battles, chicken-sparring, and on up to love-making, revolutions, 
and international intrigues. He tarried ten days, and lost and won alter¬ 
nately. His first luck was with a lottery—an insignificant $25,000. Then 
he lost on a horse-race, and won back on a wrestling-match. Then he got 
in a game of fly-loo with some international sports and put away $34,786. 
At one session of the Chinese game there were an even twenty of them and 
they used $100 bills for ante—$2,000 in each jack pot. From the Bra¬ 
zilian capital he slipped across to Havana and bet on a bull-fight, and won 
$20,000 and almost got in a fight himself over the money. Then to Key 
West, where he won on a prize-fight and lost on a chicken-fight. The Cigar 
City was too slow, and he sailed up the coast and was soon in Jacksonville. 
He liked this town, but he met too many people there from Chicago; how¬ 
ever, he was lucky again, and the bang-tails advanced his roll $48,690. 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


329 

Then a run over to Palm Beach for a short stay. Here he took a flyer on 
a boat-race and won $800. Then he lost $450 of that on a poker game 
the same night, and he renewed his resolution to never play that game again. 
His next try was a $1,000 bet with a wealthy clubman from New York on 
a golf game, and again he was lucky. Just before he left here he sent the 
balance of what he owed the Chicago bank to them by express. He 
breathed much easier now, for he had more than $ 100,000 on hand and 
did not so much fear the inevitable arrest. His longing to see his wife and 
people again overcame all else, and he lighted out for New Orleans. Here 
he was lucky, and won $80,460 in a week. He now looked up the real- 
estate man and soon had a deed for that land in his pocket. He bought 
it for an even $45,000. The tract contained 6,000 acres and would soon 
be very valuable. “Ah! now I can go home and face the Governor and 
the whole world!" and the thot made him very happy. 

Chapter VIII. 

GOING HOME. 

He spent two weeks in dear old New Orleans, and then booked pas¬ 
sage up the Red River on the same boat he came down on. Captain White 
was surely surprised to see the lad again. He knew of the sad news from 
Shreveport, but also supposed that Jerrold knew it, and out of considera¬ 
tion for the boy’s feelings forbore to mention the subject. Jerrold avoided 
almost everybody on the boat and was glad he knew none of the passen¬ 
gers. He arrived in Shreveport about 9 p. m. and immediately started for 
the plantation. He soon arrived, and found Fannetta out on the big 
veranda all alone; but what a change in the girl! She looked twenty years 
older. “What in the world was the matter, I wonder?’’ he asked himself 
as soon as he caught sight of her. Fannetta heard the snort of a rolk 
(automobile) down at the big gate, but it was too dark to tell who had 
arrived. When her brother was about half-way up the old graveled walk 
she recognized him and gasped. “Oh, thank Heaven he has returned at 
last!’’ she fervently exclaimed, and dashed down the walk to meet him. 

As soon as he saw her, he cried: “Hello, sis! so glad you had not 
retired.’’ He clasped her in his arms and kissed her tangled hair and tried 
to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come to the surface. She just sobbed 
and clung to him as tho her whole life was about to go out forever. “Why, 
sis! what’s wrong? tell me at once!’’ and he held her off at arms’ length 
and gazed into her agonized face—a face so pale and ghastly it frightened 
him. 

“Oh, Jerrold! don’t you know? Haven’t you heard?’’ and she 
trembled like a Mississippian with an Arkansaw chill. 


330 


RED KLOVER. 


“Why, no; I just got back from a rather extended trip abroad and 
haven’t had a bit of news from anybody; so I came right home. How’s 
the Governor?” was Jerrold’s reply. 

“Oh, Jerrold! brother! it is so hard, but you must know. Daddy 
died a month after getting your letter, and he never forgave you. It just 
killed him. I know he longed to see you again before the end came, but 
he was too proud to say so,” and Fannetta again buried her face on Jer- 
rold’s breast and cried softly. 

“There, there, sis; I’m awfully sorry he is gone, for I have made 
good and have the deed to the land and plenty of money besides,” said 
Jerrold, and he tried to soothe her. They were now on the porch and he 
suddenly asked: “Oh! how’s mother? I must see her at once,” and he 
started toward the door leading into the house. 

Fannetta sprang forward and seized his arm and pulled him back. 
“Mother is very sick, Jerrold,” she said, “and the sudden shock of seeing 
you at present would be sure to kill her. You must wait till to-morrow and 
we must break the news to her gently. Where’s your rvife, Jerrold?” and 
she bestowed a curious look on him and noted that his face blanched per¬ 
ceptibly. 

“Why—er—I had to make a long trip abroad for our house and had 
to leave her and the kid behind—in Chicago;” and he looked sheepish and 
uncertain. 

“But n>/rp didn’t you bring her home? You knew we’d want to meet 
her and—and —love her;” and again she studied his face closely. 

“Well, you see, I came home by way of Cuba and New Orleans, 
and decided to come on here first and see you all before returning to Chi¬ 
cago;” and as he saw she readily accepted his reasonable explanation, his 
face cleared up and he actually smiled. “I just have the dearest little 
wife in all the world, sis, and I just know ij ou will like her. Of course, I 
thot it best to come home alone first and square myself with the Governor 
before bringing my wife home;” and his old-time smile and nerve came back 
to him. 

They talked a couple of hours, and then he went to his old room and 
slept soundly untily 8:30 the next morning. 

Fannetta had kept his room ready and in perfect order, for she had 
a*premonition that he would wander back sometime , and she wanted every¬ 
thing just as he left it. “Oh! how can I ever tell him that his father dis¬ 
inherited him and left everything to me?” she cried, and she was sore 
puzzled to find the right words. “Of course, I’ll share it with brother, for 
that would only be simple justice. Because I happen to be stronger than 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


33 1 

he, and less liable to temptations, is no reason why he should be deprived 
of his rights;” and her voice had a decisive tone about it. 

The next morning Fannetta and her brother ate a late breakfast to¬ 
gether, and she tried so hard to make everything pleasant and easy for 
him. She dreaded his meeting with his mother, and decided to wait till 
the doctor came at about noon, and then they would be able to arrange it 
some way, for he must see his mother shortly or it might be too late. She 
had grieved so over her son’s conduct and the subsequent loss of her hus¬ 
band that she had very little vitality left, and Fannetta feared that a great 
shock would finish her. The nurse had reported that she had rested well 
and had slept quite soundly after 2 a. m., and seemed much refreshed and 
stronger. 

‘‘Her first inquiry on awakening was for her son,” the nurse re¬ 
ported to Fannetta; ‘‘and she says she dreamed that he had come home 
from over the waters,” continued the nurse. 

‘‘Good!” exclaimed Fannetta; ‘‘that will facilitate matters very much 
and will greatly lessen the shock;” and she looked much relieved. 

The nurse then returned from the sick-room and said: ‘‘Miss Hop¬ 
kins, your mother is very much awake and wants to see you at once. She 
wants to discuss her dream with you, I think;” and the nurse went out for 
a stroll in the spacious grounds and to gather fresh flowers for the sick¬ 
room. 

Fannetta hurried to her mother’s bedside and was soon clasped in the 
elder woman’s arms. ‘‘Oh, daughter!” she said, ‘‘I had such a .strange 
dream last night—I dreamed that Jerrold came home from far over the 
seas, and he didn’t even know that his father had passed away. Wasn’t 
it strange, Fannetta? I wonder if dreams ever come true?” 

‘‘Yes, mother dear, dreams often come true, and I think yours will 
come to pass soon;” and she bent down and kissed her mother tenderly. 

‘‘Oh, Fannetta! what makes you think rpy dream may come true? 

I didn’t know that you believed in dreams—you’re so practical;” and her 
dim and blurred old eyes had an incredulous look in them. 

‘‘Well, I don’t believe in dreams as a general thing,” replied Fan¬ 
netta, ‘‘but you know there are exceptions to all rules, and I dreamed al¬ 
most the same thing last night. But, mother, you could not see Jerrold 
if he did come home this very day; you’re so excitable, the doctor says, 
and the shock of suddenly meeting Jerrold might set you back dreadfully, 
and you know how anxious we all are to have you get well and be your 
own dear self again.” 

‘‘Fiddlesticks on the doctor and his ideas of shock!” cried Mrs. 


332 


RED KLOVER. 


Hopkins. “Nothing in all the world would help me so much and bring 
back my strength and health as to be able to clasp my poor boy in my 
arms and tell him that we forgive him;’’ and she started up in a fine 
spirit of scorn and rebellion; but her mind was stronger than her body, 
and she sank back exhausted by the effort to show her contempt for the 
doctor and his opinions. 

“Very well, mother; if he comes today, shall I bring him right in?” 

“Why, certainly, bring him right in—don’t even wait to come and tell 
me first—I want to see my boy the minute he arrives; but, Fannetta, why 
do you hold out such a forlorn hope for me? I don’t believe a word about 
your dream—you just told me that to buoy me up.” 

“Really, mother, I dreamed of Jerrold last night and on several 
other occasions I dreamed of him—and in all my dreams of him he was 
coming home—always wearily trudging his way back home—and alone;** 
and again Fannetta kissed and soothed her mother. “Listen! I do be¬ 
lieve that is a car coming up the driveway now. I’ll run and see;” and she 
was off like a kid starting to the circus. In about five minutes she was 
back at her mother’s bedside, and just behind her was Jerrold. 

“Jerrold! Oh, piy boy! my boy!” and the mother fairly jumped up, 
and Jerrold clasped her in his arms and kissed her face and hair and just 
said nothing very eloquently as he tried and tried to swallow something that 
was several sizes too large for his throat. 

Fannetta tiptoed out of the room and left them alone—their grief 
and happiness was too great and sacred to have a witness. 

In about ten minutes Jerrold came running out and called to his sister: 
“Fannetta! Oh, sister, come quick—mother has fainted /” and his face 
went white and he grew so nervous that he almost became hysterical. 

“I’m afraid you overtaxed her strength, Jerrold,” responded Fan¬ 
netta. “She was so weak and nervous and the doctor warned her against 
any sudden shock; but maybe she has just temporarily fainted. Go and 
summon the nurse, and also tell Mammy Harris to come.” 

The nurse and Fannetta worked over Mrs. Hopkins faithfully for 
ten minutes, and then the nurse suggested that they summon the doctor. 

It was nearly three hours before the physician arrived. He felt her 
pulse, examined her heart, and sadly shook his head. “Syncope—heart 
exhaustion from overtaxing the brain and nerve-supply centers,” he said. 

“But you can revive her. Doctor?” anxiously asked Fannetta, with 
her stricken soul in her eyes. 

“I’ll do my best, Miss Hopkins,” replied the physician, “but I’m 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


333 

afraid it is too late. She is so weakened from her long spell of sickness 
and mental anguish over the loss of her husband, and—” 

“Yes, yes, Doctor, I understand; but let’s get to work and do every¬ 
thing in our power;” and her tone indicated that talking was the poorest 
of all the possible remedies. 

They worked long and faithfully over Mrs. Hopkins, but she gradu¬ 
ally sank into a semi-stupor, and then lapsed into the unconsciousness 
that usually precedes death. That night at 9:42 she passed out, and the 
stricken household was again in the deepest shadows. The burial took 
place two days later, and Fannetta and her returned brother had the 
sympathy of the entire community. A few of the inner circle understood 
the real cause of the Colonel’s sudden taking off and the sudden passing 
of Mrs. Hopkins, but they were too fine and well-bred to talk of it. It 
was one of those human tragedies that cannot be helped, and lamenting 
it or discussing it would only add to the tragedy and increase the suffering 
of the living. Like all other tragedies. Time, the great peace-maker, soon 
blunts the sharp corners and slips it over into the Memory Class. 

Chapter IX. 

VISITORS.—STARTING ALL OVER AGAIN. 

Colonel Hopkins had disinherited his son and left everything to his 
wife and dauter. A provision of his will was that if his wife died before 
the dauter died, the entire estate and everything was to go to the girl; so 
Fannetta was now a very rich girl—for that section of the State, at least. 
The estate and personal holdings totaled up about a million and a half— 
exclusive of the 6,000 acres of timber land that Jerrold had just bought 
in the name of his father; but, as his father was deceased at the time, and 
as dead men cannot hold property, here was a fine piece for legal pyrotech¬ 
nics—in plain English, legal bull! It was a hard blow for Fannetta to tell 
her brother the provisions of his father’s will, but it had to be done, and 
she knew that she could break the disagreeable news to him in a softer 
way than their lawyer could. On the second day after the funeral Fan¬ 
netta summoned up enuff courage to tell him the disagreeable news. 

“But you know, Jerrold, dear,” she said in conclusion, “I shall 
divide everything equally with you. There is plenty for us both, and it 
was mother’s dying wish that she and I should undo your father’s injustice 
to you; and I want you to stay right here and take his place and manage 
everything just as he had always planned that you would do some day. 
His anger and misunderstanding of you need make no difference non?.” 

“That is very sweet of you, sister,” responded Jerrold, “and I should 


334 


RED KLOVER. 


like to stay and start all over again, but, you see—I have a wife and 
dauter now, and that changes everything.” 

‘‘Fiddlesticks! Jerrold, what difference do a wife and dauter make 
anyway? There’s plenty of room here for all of us, and I’ve always 
wanted a sister —and, just think, a little niece too! Why, brother, brother, 
I’m just tickled to death that you are married and have a child. If you 
were not married now, it would only be a question of time until you took 
that step anyway; so what’s the difference?” 

‘‘Very well, sister, if you really want it that way, I’ll stay here 
with you and try to manage things. The niggers always liked me and 
I’ll be able to manage them better than an outsider; but I won’t have any 
of the property, mind you—just a nominal salary as your superintendent. 
You may let that timber land I bought be mine if you like; that is as 
much as I will accept.” 

So it was agreed, and Jerrold was to hurry back to Chicago and 
bring his wife and dauter on to the old plantation and they would all live 
happily together—so Fannetta thot. 

‘‘ Chicago —//e/Z/” thot Jerrold to himself. ‘‘How can I go back 
there now and be pinched? It is true I’ve paid back all the money I 
borrowed , but that doesn’t square me with the law. And I don’t even 
dare to risk a letter, either, for the hounds would trace me thru that.” He 
turned it over and over in his mind for two days, and then told his sister 
everything. 

Fannetta gasped, for she had not heard of his Chicago affair with 
the bank. ‘‘Oh, brother!” she cried, I’m so sorry for you; but we’ll man¬ 
age it some way. I must have time to think. Why, I could disguise as an 
elderly woman and go quietly there and bring Elna home with me;” and 
her eyes brightened at the prospect of a little diversion, and anything to 
help her brother was her motto at present. 

Jerrold had a complete outfit of make-up materials and knew how 
to use them; so, after a few days’ practice, Fannetta could make up with 
the best of them. This greatly amused her, and she was anxious to be 
off for the North and give it a trial. After a week of reheasing and 
planning, Fannetta was ready for the start. Jerrold drove her to the stopo 
(depot), and as they entered the ladies’ waiting-room his heart almost 
went dead—there was Elna ready to board the same train! 

Elna had sold their home and everything in Chicago and gone home 
to her parents in St. Louis. Her father had gone to Chicago and carried 
her back home with him. She had just been down to Shreveport to visit 
her sister there, and was now returning to her parents in St. Louis. She 





THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


335 


had a short letter with her that she was going to mail on the train. In 
this letter she told Jerrold where he could find her if he cared to, and that 
he must come on there for her and make amends to her parents for the 
shabby way he had treated them—by not even stopping off there and pay¬ 
ing them a short visit when they went thru there on their way to Chicago 
the year previous. 

Jerrold was so delighted to see his wife and his dauter, Elnece Selda 
Hopkins, that she had no further misgivings about his loyalty to them. 
“Elna, meet my sister Fannetta.” “Sister, this is my beloved wife, Elna.” 
The two women were soon clasped in each other’s arms and clung to 
one another like lost sisters just reunited. 

“A thousand welcomes, sister Elna. I’ve always wanted a sister, 
and now I have one—and I’m so proud of her!’’ and all the old Hopkins 
love and pride shone in Fannetta’s soft purple eyes. She saw at a glance 
that Elna was quality itself, and she knew from every line of her beautiful 
and refined face that she was well-bred and came from a good ancestry. 

“And I’m so glad to meet my new sister, Fannetta, for I never had 
a sister nor brother of my own; but now I’m just going to love you to 
death, and oh! but won’t we make Jerrold toe the mark?’’ and Elna 
reached over and wound an arm around his neck and kissed him playfully. 

“We certainly will, sister—he will have two bosses from now on,” 
said Fannetta, affectionately. 

“You’re both wrong—I’ll have three bosses—you’ve overlooked 
Elnece and he sighed happily. 

“I guess he's right,” said Fannetta as she took Elnece in her arms 
and petted her. “I just feel that we will all be under her spell,” con¬ 
tinued Fannetta. 

“No, indeed, sister; I don’t believe in spoiling children—it’s the 
greatest unkindness you can bestow upon them. I think they should be 
treated with plenty of love and all kindness, but they should not be spoiled 
by letting them have their way about everything and by letting them have 
everything they want ;’ and Elna looked almost as dignified and savage 
as the precise and aged spinster superintendent of a girls’ reformatory. 

“No doubt you’re right, sister,” admitted Fannetta, “but it will 
be awfully hard to be strict with such a sweet and bright little elf as my 
niece;” and she again squeezed the child to her heart, and the little rascal 
seemed to understand, for she reciprocated the squeeze with compound 
interest. 

Jerrold bundled them all in the car, and they were soon out to his 
old plantation, and Elna and Jerrold were very happy, and to be back 


RED KLOVER. 


336 

again in his old home and boyhood haunts on the dear old plantation was 
indeed Heaven to the cashier; and Fannetta’s happiness was no less than 
his. Elna was also delighted. 

Chapter X. 

THE NEW LIFE.—THE CAPTAIN’S FRIEND. 

Everything on the plantation took on a new life. Even the grass 
and foliage seemed greener. Jerrold took hold with a master hand and 
everything prospered under his management. He was a new man. His 
regeneration seemed complete. Fannetta and Elna became inseparable, 
and everything ran along with the utmost ease and harmony. Little Elnece 
grew into a beautiful and talented little girl, and they all loved the child 
and fairly worshiped her; but it took the little one a long time to get 
accustomed to the negroes. There were about fifty negroes on the Hop¬ 
kins plantation, and they all liked Jerrold and Fannetta, and when they 
learned what a rare and talented musician Elna was, they swore by her. 
They called Elnece “f/ie little White Missus ,” and fairly worshiped the 
tiny speck of fragile humanity. Everything ran along nicely for about 
six months, and then events began to happen—the events that made this 
story possible. 

We will now go back a bit and take a little trip with Mr. Ralvert 
Stacy Chase, the detective. We left the persistent gentleman in Auckland, 
New Zealand. He was side-tracked for five weeks on account of a broken 
leg. As soon as he was able, he again took up the long trail with the 
tireless and unerring accuracy of a Southern bloodhound. After he had 
traced the cashier to New Orleans, he had also learned that the young 
man had sent back every penny he had borrowed from the bank. Of 
course this would make no difference so far as the law was concerned, 
but, as Mr. Chase was something more than a man-trailer, it made a big 
difference to him. He had a strong sense of elemental justice running 
thru his soul, and he believed in giving every poor devil a chance—if he 
deserved it and if his conduct indicated that he was wanting to reform and 
make good. Mr. Chase was a brave man and also a gentleman, and, 
knowing of Jerrold’s beautiful young wife and little dauter, he failed to 
see the necessity of soaking him just because the “/alp” permitted it. He 
communicated with the bank and asked if they still desired his arrest and 
punishment. He waited a week and received a long letter from the bank 
officials and a check for ten thousand dollars for expenses. 

“Yes, we want you to follow him to the end of time and bring him 
in—we are determined to make an example of the cuss for the benefit of 
others. Remember, you won’t get the reward unless you bring him in; 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


337 


besides, if you lay down now, your reputation as a detective will be ruined. 
Keep right after him till you get him—even if the trail leads you to the 
very gates of Hell. Put on asbestos garments and go right in after him.** 

“Some letter—some savage!” mused Ralvert to himself. “Well, I 
hardly know what to do. I dislike to pinch the poor fish now that he has 
made good all his defalcations and has gone back home and evidently 
intends to settle down and cut out the wild cereal business; and I’d hate 
awfully to break that poor little wife’s heart and disgrace his innocent 
little baby girl; of course, if he had not sent back the money nor reformed, 
it would be different; but now —well, hang it! I hardly know what to 
do;” and he mused long and hard. His official duty urged him straight 
ahead, but something else kept pulling him in another direction. He had 
never before been on a fence so high he dared not jump off on either side. 

After a week in New Orleans, Mr. Chase learned about the land 
deal and that the cashier had taken passage up the Red River on the 
Water Lily. That meant that he had gone home—to see his folks. Mr. 
Chase did not know anything about Jerrold’s misusing the $75,000 his 
father had given him for the land purchase; neither did he know anything 
about the romantic manner of Jerrold’s courtship and marriage. He 
learned in New Orleans banking and cotton circles that the Hopkins 
family was one of the oldest and wealthiest in the State. 

“Well, in two more days the Water Lily will start up the river again 
for Shreveport, and I think I’ll be a passenger. It is more than likely 
that the captain will know Jerrold and his people, and I feel sure I’ll 
find a gold mine in the good old captain—in the way of information. The 
old rivermen soon know everyone along their routes that’s worth knowing 
—and many that aren’t even an asset in the steerage. Well, let’s see 
—what character shall I assume?” mused Ralvert to himself. “I think 
I’ll be a young author looking for color and new materials for my stories. 
My stories! ha, ha! that’s rich. The only stories I ever wrote were my 
reports to my employers, and they were too near the truth to be interesting; 
but, hang it! I have always wanted to be a writer, and as I have a wide 
and liberal education, I believe I could succeed in that field; anyway, I’m 
just going to have a try at it, for I’m tired of this business of trailing the 
weaklings of my own species. A detective has no business to have any 
such troublesome thing as a soul, and as I can’t quite get rid of mine, and 
the cussed thing insists on growing, I think I’ll get out of the nasty business 
entirely;” and so he mused for the next couple of days while he was wait¬ 
ing for the up-sailing of the Red River boat. Mr. Chase provided him¬ 
self with plenty of writing materials and sketching pencils, etc., for he 


338 


RED KLOVER. 


was also a very fair artist. He always carried a Corona typewriter with 
him, and that would do for his writing. He had on two occasions visited 
the Authors' Club in New York, and had often visited similar clubs in 
Chicago and elsewhere. He had among his intimate friends in Chicago 
several prominent literary men and women, and he often went with them 
to their club meetings—just for no particular reasons whatever—he had 
an inherent taste for literature and things literary. The knowledge he thus 
gained was non) an asset in the manner of their dress and their ways and 
habits; so it was an easy matter to rig himself out in the proper regalia of 
a successful young author—out looking for color and materials. 

“Oh, yes; I must have a good title for my story and everything ready 
so I can talk about it glibly— if the occasion arises,” he said to himself. 
“Let’s see—what shall I name my maiden effort?” and he laffed and 
studied deeply for nearly ten whole minutes before the right idea came. 
“Ah! I have it! *A Romance with a Splinter in It.' That’s fine and will 
make them laff as well as gasp.” 

At last he was ready, and so was the boat. The Water Lil\) left 
her wharf in the Crescent City at 1 :40 p. m. Friday, and slowly chugged 
her lazy way up the Mississippi and Red rivers to the quaint old town 
of Shreveport. Ralvert remained on deck and at once fell to studying 
the scenery and making numerous sketches. He seemed oblivious to every¬ 
body and stuck to his sketching. The boat had about forty-five passengers 
this trip, but the number would increase after she got in the Red River. 
The news soon spread that a handsome artist was aboard and absorbed 
in sketching everything on shore or in sight. A grizzled old planter from 
near Vicksburg told Captain White about his artist passenger. “Well, 
Melvin, I’m glad we have some talent aboard, for these trips are gener¬ 
ally so colorless. If we have some musicians and artists or authors or any 
kind of an unusual critter aboard, it helps mightily with the entertainment 
of the crew. After awhile, when Benson relieves me, I’ll go down and 
make the gentleman’s acquaintance and see what kind of a pirate he is;” 
and the Captain laffed at his own joke. 

In the course of the late afternoon Captain White and his friend, 
the old planter, went down on deck and soon found the “ artist ” and a 
crowd of curious admirers. The artist paid no attention to them, and to 
the finer-grained ones this was a polite hint that he did not care for 
company. 

The old Captain went right up to the young man and said, politely 
and bruskly: “Stranger, I’m Captain White, the owner and skipper of 
this little craft, and this is an old friend of mine, Major Melvin Moulton, 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


339 


of Vicksburg;” and he reached out his ponderous hand and fairly jerked 
the artist off his pegs. 

‘‘Glad to meet you, gentlemen;” and he clasped their hands in a 
manner that told them he was no weakling, but a game bird. 

‘‘Come up to my cabin, youngster,” invited the old river lion, ‘‘and 
I’ll give you something that will make your brush a rainbow and he 
slapped Ralvert on the back in that hearty and blustering way of the 
old-time rivermen of the Southland. 

‘‘All right. Captain; lead the way. My name is Chase—R. S. 
Chase, and I hail from Brooklyn, New York. Like all members of my 
tribe, I like color .” 

‘‘Ah! you’re the right sort, Mr. Chase,” admiringly admitted the 
Major. ‘‘A little of Captain White’s nectar will fill your soul so full of 
color that every minute will be a rainbow and a sunrise ;” and they all 
laffed at this poetic observation. 

‘‘Ah! fine, Captain, fine!” and Ralvert smacked his lips like a con¬ 
noisseur and a gentleman. A bishop couldn’t have understood and ap¬ 
preciated the Captain’s nectar and its highbrow quality any more than the 
young artist did. 

‘‘You’re a real gentleman, son;” and the Major slapped his back a 
resounding thwack and laffed in subdued thunder tones. 

Ralvert knew these old Southerners and knew how to play their 
music and games. ‘‘Well, I ought to be—my dad was an old-time 
Virginian and large slave-owner befoh the wahr, and I am his only son;” 
and the young artist drew himself up proudly and looked the two elder 
men defiantly in the eyes and never batted a lash. 

‘‘Well, shiver my timbers. Major! but I picked the youngster for a 
game bird and a gentleman, and you see that old Jarvis hasn’t lost his 
vision yet,” said the Captain. 

‘‘Right you are, Jarvis, I knew the boy was no damned Yankee — 
it’s no trouble at all to tell a gentleman if he is from the South.” And thus 
they talked and imbibed color until the whole universe was an iridescent 
rainbow with a kaleidoscopic background. 

Ralvert pretended to drink a great deal, but did not—just enuff 
to give himself the right ring, but not enuff to become intoxicated. He 
was now a favorite of the Captain’s and the Major wanted to adopt him 
before the boat reached the Red River. That night at dinner the Cap¬ 
tain gave Ralvert the seat of honor just to the right of his seat. This 
was the highest distinction the Captain could bestow on any of his guests, 
and he usually bestowed it on some lady—especially if she were a fine 


340 


RED KLOVER. 


musician and weren’t so stuck on herself as to be tiresome. Next to the 
nectar that painted landscapes in the brain, the Captain liked music and 
a good story. “Ladies and gentlemen, this youngster is Mr. R. S. Chase, 
of Brooklyn, New York. He is a talented author and artist and a par¬ 
ticular friend of mine,’’ said the Captain by way of introduction. The 
passengers all bowed politely and cordially, and Mr. Chase was soon a 
favorite with them all. And when they found that he was also a skillful 
pianist and brilliant conversationalist, he became a lion. 

When the Captain took the wheel again at 8 o’clock, he invited Ral- 
vert to come up and sit with him and he would point out all the interest¬ 
ing places on the river, etc. This was just what the youngster desired—it 
would give him an unsuspected opportunity to pump the old alligator as 
dry as a Bryan plank. 

“Take that big easy rocker over there, Chase, and help yourself to 
the smokes.’’ 

“Thanks, Captain—you’re a connoisseur of cigars as well as of the 
proper drinks for a gentleman and Ralvert lighted up a sure-enuff Ha¬ 
vana and lazily blew the fragrant clouds of smoke at the full and soul¬ 
teasing moon. 

“First trip in these waters, youngster?’’ and the Captain blew a 
cloud of the fragrant smoke at a couple of Opelousas mosquitoes that in¬ 
sisted on following the boat. 

“Yes, this is my maiden trip up the Red River , but not to New 
Orleans. No place like the dear old Crescent—eh, Captain?’’ 

“You’ve said it. Chase; it’s more than the New York of the South 
-—it’s the Paris and Rome of America, I think. Know anybody in 
Shreveport?’’ and again the Captain bombarded those two persistent mos¬ 
quitoes with tobacco smoke. 

“No; I don’t know a soul up in this territory and I don’t want to— 
just want to be let alone and be free to knock around in my own way and 
pick up new ideas incognito.’’ 

“Right you are, boy. Shreveport has some mighty fine people. I 
had an old-time friend up there, Colonel Jerome Hopkins, but, like all 
flesh, he recently passed away;’’ and the Captain tried hard to keep back 
the tears. 

“Too bad. Captain, but we all have to go some time;’’ and the 
youngster looked properly sorry. “I suppose he left a family to perpetuate 
his name and fortune?” 

“Very little; one of the finest girls that God’s sun ever shone on, 
and a boy—about your age I guess—but Jerrold was a little wild at 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


34i 


college and has been a little weak since; in fact, it is pretty well under¬ 
stood among his intimate friends that the young man’s conduct is what 
killed his father; and only a couple of weeks ago his mother followed her 
distinguished husband to the grave;” and again the Captain wept visibly. 

1 00 bad, too bad. But perhaps the boy—what did you call 

him?” 

‘‘Jerrold,” supplied the Captain. 

Will now brace up and help his sister to steer the old family 
craft,” finished the artist. 

‘‘We all hope so, for Jerrold is really a fine boy, but a little weak 
and inclined to be a little—ah— sporty;" and the Captain looked relieved 
now that it was out. 

‘‘That’s nothing; many of our greatest statesmen and men of letters 
and art have been quite wild in their younger days and sowed enuff 
cereals to supply a breakfast food mill in Battle Creek!” and the artist 
looked like an authority on such matters. 

‘‘I have no doubt you’re right, Mr. Chase, and I’d be so pleased 
if you knew young Hopkins. You might be able to help him—to give 
him the right viewpoint of life and its responsibilities and its possibilities. 
I wish I had the time to carry you out to the Hopkins plantation and in¬ 
troduce you to the young mistress. Miss Fannetta Moss Hopkins, and her 
impulsive young brother, Mr. Jerrold Jofton Hopkins; but I won’t have 
the time. However, I’ll write you a letter of introduction to the young 
people and that will put you in right, and I hope you’ll stick around 
awhile and maybe you can give young Hopkins the very hand he needs. 
His sister is the sole heiress to the vast Hopkins estate. The Colonel was 
so provoked at Jerrold for his wild ways that he cut him off entirely and 
left it all to Fannetta. Some fish there, Mr. Chase, if you happen to be 
a single man and are in the market. Fannetta is one of the best the sun 
ever shone on and she has no weak spots in her make-up like her brother 
has. Perhaps the old planter did a wise thing in leaving it all to the girl. 
Of course she will help her brother anyway, and it may be best that it 
is so arranged that he cannot fool it away;” and the Captain lit a fresh 
cemetery bolt and looked for those mosquitoes again. 

‘‘Very much obliged to you, Captain, for offering the letter, and I 
might find some good material right there for my next story;” and the 
author also started another necropolis peg going. ‘‘About how much of 
a fortune did Colonel Hopkins leave to his interesting dauter?” asked 
the artist carelessly. 

‘‘Fully a million and a half,” proudly exclaimed the Captain; ‘‘but 


342 


RED KLOVER. 


Fannetta would be a fortune to any man even if she didn’t have a cent,” 
enthusiastically continued the Captain. ‘‘She’s a real, 100 per cent girl, 
my boy, and I wish the world had more like her.” 

‘‘What escapades was young Hopkins mixed up in?” asked the 
author indifferently—more as a means of keeping the Captain talking 
about the Hopkins family. 

‘‘Well, I don’t exactly know what it was—the usual calico es¬ 
capades, gambling debts, etc., I believe.” 

‘‘Oh, pshaw! that’s nothing; almost every young fellow at college 
does those things if he has any pep about him;” and the artist shrugged 
his shoulders to indicate his ideas about the matter. 

‘‘I’m glad you feel that way about it, Chase, for I hardly think 
the old planter treated his son right. I’ll write that letter for you tomorrow, 
and I shouldn’t be surprised if you find plenty of color and material about 
Shreveport.” 

‘‘Well, as I’m sleepy, I think I’ll turn in. Good night, Captain;” 
and Chase went to his room and enjoyed a very good night’s rest and had 
some very pleasant dreams —no, not exactly about the cashier. 

Chase was very sociable and friendly with Captain White, and long 
before he reached Shreveport he had the Hopkins family history down 
Patrick. The Water Lily docked at her wharf in Shreveport about 4 
o’clock Monday evening, and Captain White accompanied Ralvert up 
to the hotel and cordially introduced the youngster to the landlord, who 
was a personal friend of the Captain’s. Then they started on up to the 
postoffice together, and just as they were entering Jerrold and Fannetta 
were coming out. 

‘‘Well, what luck!” boomed the Captain. ‘‘Jerrold, meet Mr. 
Chase, of Brooklyn. Mr. Chase, shake hands with Mr. Jerrold Hopkins 
—and meet Miss Hopkins;” and the Captain did the introductions in 
his grand old style of cordial courtesy and highbrow dignity. 

‘‘Delighted to meet you, Mr. Hopkins, and you. Miss Hopkins;” 
and the brother and sister cordially acknowledged the introductions. 

‘‘Mr. Chase is a friend of mine and has migrated down here to 
God’s country looking for color and materials for his next story,” ex¬ 
plained the Captain with pride as he familiarly slapped the author on the 
back; ‘‘and what’s more to the point,” went on the Captain, ‘‘he’s a real 
gentleman—a Virginian, and his people are all Southerners and of the 
best. I assured Mr. Chase that Shreveport would be able to supply 
him with plenty of color and materials for his romances;” and the Cap¬ 
tain laffed in his hearty way. 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


343 


“Oh, how romantic and interesting—a real author amongst us!” 
and Fannetta’s face brightened up and tried to do a Marathon with the 
rainboiv. “I’m so glad to meet you, Mr. Chase. Are you musical, too?” 
and she gave him a look that made him forget that he was an officer and 
had a warrant in his pocket for her brother’s arrest. 

“W-h-y, really. Miss Hopkins, I—” 

“Hang it, youngster! tell ’er the truth. Of course he’s a musician, 
and had my passengers all locoed with his rare music and singing,” 
boomed the Captain again. 

“We’re awfully glad to hear that you are also a musician, Mr. 
Chase,” went on Jerrold enthusiastically. “Sister and I are very fond of 
music, and my rvife is just a maniac about it; so I know we’ll be con¬ 
genial, and I already have a comradely feeling toward you. I hope you’ll 
come out to our plantation and make us a long visit while you are in 
these parts,” cordially invited Jerrold, and at the same time looked at his 
sister for a second, and she readily agreed and joined her brother in the 
invitation to visit the Hopkins home and plantation. 

“I thank you all very much for the invitation, and as soon as I 
rest up a couple of days I shall be pleased to visit you all,” returned the 
author, with a steady look into Fannetta’s deep purple eyes. She re¬ 
turned his look with a little interest, and could not help showing with her 
face and eyes that she liked the author. 

“Mr. Chase, I have to drive in tomorrow evening for some supplies 
—couldn’t you be ready to go home with me then?” and Jerrold gave 
the detective a look that had brother written all over it. 

“W-h-y, yes, I reckon so,” he assented. 

“Very well; then I’ll call at the hotel about four o’clock tomorrow 
evening, and if you are ready then, we can get home in time for dinner;” 
and the cashier looked real happy. 

“I’ll be ready,” was the response; and then they parted, and the 
Captain walked back as far as the hotel with Ralvert. 

“Didn’t I tell you that Miss Hopkins was a real girl?” asked the 
Captain, with a happy smile on his face, for he saw that Jerrold and 
Fannetta both liked young Chase, and he didn’t need to ask the author if 
he liked the Hopkins children—he could read it in his face. 

“Captain White, I’ll have to admit that you’re as good a judge of 
women as you are of drinks;” and they both laffed pleasantly. 


344 


RED KLOVER. 


Chapter XI. 

AN AUTO-DEBATE.—THE “AUTHOR’S” VISIT. 

The Captain and the author then parted, and Ralvert returned to 
the hotel and went to his room—to thinl p—and THINK. "Oh, Hell! 
what bum luck! Here I’ve traveled most of the world over trying to 
catch young Hopkins and arrest him and thus bring disgrace on him and 
his. He’s returned all the money he helped himself to and has reformed. 
At last I’ve caught up with him and am introduced by one of his friends 
as a gentleman, and he and his beautiful sister receive me as a gentleman 
and cordially invite me to their home as an honored guest—and I’m a 
damned sneak —a coiled serpent in their path, waiting to fasten my toxic 
fangs in their flesh. Ah, bah! Damn the whole detective business any¬ 
way! It’s no calling for a gentleman —it’s a blackguard’s trade and 
I’m only a sneaking tinhorn sport. But what am I to do? I’ve got to 
make a decided move, and very shortly at that. That damned old Shylock 
in Chicago wants his pound of flesh, and if I don’t get it for him, some 
other ferret with a keen nose and no morals will. What shall I do?” and 
he went and stood before the long French mirror for fully ten minutes and 
viewed himself from every possible angle. Then he slipped his hand in 
his breast pocket and pulled out the "warrant." He read it over and 
over, and then he saw Jerrold behind prison bars and his innocent wife 
and sister bowed in shame and deep disgrace. Could he do it? Then he 
shut his eyes as he lay down on the soft and downy bed—and just 
tried and tried to see a way out of it; but all he could see was Fannetta's 
soft and beautiful face and her coaxing purple eyes inviting him to come 
and be their guest and share their hospitality—thinking all the while that 
he was a gentleman, instead of a professional sneak seeking the downfall 
of her beloved brother. 

He lay perfectly still for about ten minutes, until the knocking on 
his door by the porter, who said: “Sup-puh is ready, suh.” He jumped 
up and with a cold towel tried to get some of the redness out of his agi¬ 
tated face, but it only got redder. “N-o-o, I won’t go down! I’m not 
a bit hungry anyway; that is, not for food." In about a half-hour he 
rang for the “po-tah” and ordered a box of the best Havanas the house 
afforded and a big pitcher of ice-water and a quart bottle of their best 
champagne. “That will be all, po-tah. No, I don’t want anything to 
eat;” and he shut the door. In about five minutes the “po-tah” was 
back with the liquid supper and necropolis bolts. He tipped the “po-tah” 
a 50-cent piece and tossed off two glasses of the divine potation without 
even slowing down for train-orders, so to speak. 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL . 


345 


When the “po-tah” got back downstairs with the other colored serv¬ 
ants, he remarked with a smile: “De gem-men up in fohteen is suhtenly 
de real goods—he tipped me foh-bits an’ Ah toted a quaht of de boss’s 
best shampain an’ a whole box of de house’s best Hervanas up ter him.” 

‘‘Ah, g’wan! Yuh jest speech’fyin’. Le’s see ther foh-bit piece;” 

and old Mam ’Liza gave him a look of incredulity. 

Four-bits was some real money to those Shreveport niggers in those 
good old days—“ ’foh de wahr.” 

The author soon grew mellow and oblivious under the Lethal in- 
flunce of the landscape-painting nectar. He went out in town and tried 
to get interested in a play, but he couldn’t keep his mind on it at all. 
When it was about half finished he went for a stroll, and after walking 
a couple of miles returned to the hotel and retired for the night. He 
ate a late breakfast the next morning, and then knocked about town and 
picked up more information about the Hopkins family—but it was to 
their credit. It seemed that Jerrold was the only one who had ever 
kicked over the traces. Everyone spoke well of the young cashier, barring 
his few little escapades at college. Chase was certain now that the 
people of Shreveport did not know of the Chicago affair, and he made 
up his mind right then and there that he would not be the one to spread 
the mal-news. ‘‘Damn the detective business anyway!” he mused over 
and over again to himself that day as the beautiful and smiling face of 
Fannetta kept coming between him and his “dufp.” and then he recalled 
Jerrold’s cordial reception of him and how gladly and quickly the young 
cashier had invited him to be their guest, and with what shy and ill- 
concealed pleasure Fannetta had seconded her brother’s invitation. ‘‘No, 
I just can’t do it; besides. I’m going to win Fannetta if I can, and I’m 
just conceited enuff to believe that I can. From what Captain White 
fells me, she is heart-whole and fancy free. In that case I’ll have a 
fair start, and if I can’t win her, I’ll know that I don’t deserve such a 
rare prize. She would just fit my soul to a t, and she is the first girl I 
ever met that just suits me; and then look at the wealth she has. If I did 
my ‘official duty by pinching her brother, that would spoil everything; 
besides, what good would it do anybody to incarcerate the poor cuss in 
Illinois’ dirty hoosgow now? Merely to gratify the vanity of that old 
$-chasing Shylock in Chicago. I have no doubt but what he’d be in the 
stir himself if he had all the law provides for his way of getting money.” 
And so his thots ran all day as he knocked around and sized up the 
sleepy old Southern town and drew down many a sweet smile from the 
pretty maidens of the town. Mr. Chase was a fine and athletic young 


346 


RED KLOVER. 


man of 170 pounds and 5 feet and 10 inches tall. He was a trained 
athlete in boxing, fencing, wrestling, running, riding, shooting and gym¬ 
nastics. He was well balanced physically as well as mentally, and it is 
no wonder he was such a favorite with the girls. He was also popular 
with his own sex and a good mixer. 

About an hour before Mr. Chase met Jerrold at the hotel he de¬ 
stroyed the “ warrant ” and then felt much better. “There!” he mused 
to himself as he watched the last bit of the fatal paper go up in smoke; 
“I’m no longer a sneak masquerading in the garments of a gentleman — 
I’m no longer a hunter of my orvn species—I’m no longer a coiled serpent 
in the path of man!” And thus he mused and as he looked at himself in the 
long mirror. “I’m going to be a real author now, instead of a cheat and 
a sham. This great love that has come to me all at once has over¬ 
whelmed me—has regenerated me and made a man out of me. The next 
time I shake Jerrold’s hand I’ll feel like a gentleman as well as appear 
like one. No more will my soul call me on the carpet and call me 
‘coward,’ ‘sneak,’ ‘tinhorn,’ etc. The next time I’m Captain White’s guest 
and he so proudly places me at his right and proudly introduces me to 
his guests as his friend. I’ll not have to be ashamed of myself internally ;.” 

“Tap, tap!” on his door. “Mis-tah Chase, young Marse Hopkins 
down in de lobby and wants to see yuh;” and the colored bell-hop made 
a low bow. 

“All right, boy—here’s a quarter for you—tell Mr. Hopkins that 
I’ll be right down; also take this suit-case down with you.” Chase had 
his grip and suit-case all packed and ready, and had destroyed all his 
credentials as an officer of the law—had purged himself forever of the 
last stain. 

“Safety first,” he mused to himself as he came tripping light-heart¬ 
edly down the broad and winding old stairway—so characteristic of the 
old-time hotels thruout the Southland. “Ah! glad to meet you again, Mr. 
Hopkins;” and the two young men clasped hands warmly. 

“All ready, Mr. Chase?” and Jerrold led the way out to the 
waiting car. 

The “po-tah” and bell-hop soon had the baggage properly stored 
and Jerrold threw in the clutch, and away they spun out of town and 
followed the muddy old Red River for several miles before they swerved 
off to the north. They soon reached the old Hopkins plantation, that 
stretched away back from the north bank of the Carnation Rio. A couple 
of negro servants were on hand to carry in the guest’s luggage and the 
supplies that Jerrold had brought from town. 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


347 


“Ah! good evening, Mr. Chase; come right in, and welcome to our 
home;’’ and Fannetta held out to him as soft and white a little hand as 
he had ever seen, and the kick that was in it came from her soul. He 
recognized it and met it in kind with a little interest thrown in for good 
measure. Then she introduced him to Elna, Jerrold’s charming wife. 
Elna gave him the same cordial welcome, and he gasped when he saw 
how charmingly beautiful she was. 

After an excellent dinner, they all adjourned to the big, old-fashioned 
parlor, and when Mr. Chase’s eyes beheld a grand old Chickering piano, 
they fairly danced. Elna was the first to play, and then she, Fannetta, 
and Jerrold sang a song they all knew. Then Fannetta played some soft 
and dreamy old love-songs that found where the young author kept his 
heart. Jerrold played and sang a solo with the guitar. Then Mr. Chase 
had to perform, and he soon had them all captured by his music and 
singing. The evening soon and pleasantly passed away, and Mr. Chase 
was shown to his room—a big southeast room on the second floor, and 
oh, the way Fannetta and Elna had it dolled up! He thot he was 
in fairyland. And oh, what beautiful and wonderful dreams he had. 
“Will they ever come true?’’ he asked himself. 

The next morning, after a late breakfast, they indulged in a couple 
of hours at music, and then some tennis. Mr. Chase was simply delighted 
with everything, and such genuine hospitality he had never before met. 
And oh, what a wonderful old place—what flowers and vines, and great, 
stately trees, with their quiet primeval dignity. And the acres and acres 
of berries and orchards, and the vast fields of snowy cotton as far as the 
eye could reach! The old Colonial mansion stood on the north bank of 
the river, and a great gravel walk festooned with vines and flowers led 
from the little landing at the river’s brink to the house. The house was 
about 400 feet back from the river, and this arbor of grapevines, rose 
bushes and morning glories extended the entire distance from the landing 
to the great porticoed porch, over which the soft Southern sun danced thru 
the vine-latticed screens. The Hopkins had a nifty and classy little yacht, 
on which the young people coursed up and down the river in the evenings 
when the moon was poetically drunk in all its soft and tangled glory. 
They carried their small instruments, violins, guitars, banjos, and mandolins 
with them, and the boat had a very fine new Steinway piano—an upright. 
They played, they sang, they dreamed, they fished—and loved. Jerrold 
was crazy about Elna and little Elnece, and they dearly loved him, and 
Fannetta was the only girl in the world to them; and she was simply 
crazy about them. 


348 


RED KLOVER. 


“I never saw such happy mortals in all my life,” mused Chase to 
himself after he had been there two days. Not a discord. “I’m so glad 
I burned that cussed warrant and destroyed all evidence that I used to 
be a hunter of my own frail species. Never again!” He wouldn’t have 
arrested Jerrold now if that young man had murdered the President and 
swiped the League of Nations. 

In all their little excursions Ralvert and Fannetta would pair off and 
Jerrold and Elna would do the same. It was plain to a blind man that 
Ralvert was insane about Fannetta and that she was crazy about him. 
He only intended to stay a couple of days, and here more than a week 
had sped by, and still he dallied and pretended to sketch and write. It 
is true he had quite a real story well started and managed to work on it 
an hour or so every day, but Fannetta was the Big STORY that was holding 
him a willing prisoner; and she had no “warrant ”—except her smiles; no 
handcuffs—except her love. 

What puzzled him most, now that he felt sure of Fannetta’s love, 
was how to chuck up the case against her brother without letting the truth 
out of the bag. And it wouldn’t do to let old Fenners know that Jerrold 
had returned to Shreveport. ‘‘Never! I’ll just take a trip to New York 
and write him from there, and tell him I’ve traced the cashier to that 
city of wealth, piety, and crime, and that he has so cleverly covered up his 
tracks I can’t find any trace of him. I’ll pretend such humiliation at my 
defeat that I’ll resign and tell him I’ve embarked into another line of 
work—that I want no more detective work in mine. As he’s spent so 
much money on the case, and as he has back all he lost thru the cashier, 
he may consider it best to drop the case.” So Mr. Chase announced in 
two more days that he was called to New York by his publishers, but 
might return later—‘‘If I feel sure I can find some more color hereabouts.” 

That last night of his stay at the plantation he said to Fannetta just 
before they reached their landing: ‘‘Miss Hopkins—Fannetta, I mean, 

I wish I could always remain in this delightful spot. Hang the publishers 
and such pesky things!” 

She blushed modestly and exchanged looks with him that needed no 
words—words would have been a cruel profanation. Each soul recog¬ 
nized the other—and surrendered. ‘‘Then not do so?” and with 
her face bathed in that deep and carnation glory which only Love can 
impart, she gazed steadily into his soul—and waited. 

‘‘Oh, Fannetta! my own love—my only life, is it really your dearest 
wish that I remain and be wholly yours—your soul-mate, your husband?” 

‘‘Yes, Ralvert, just that, and it will be the happiest and proudest 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


349 


moment of my life when I can call you 4 husband ’ and endow you with 
all my vast and exhaustless love;” and she found herself in his arms and 
in just the right position for the sealing kiss—that Vast and Forever SouL 
Kiss that makes the grave a joke. 

‘‘Ah! little sweetheart—precious!” he cried; ‘‘your kisses are the 
kind that have put all the color and music and beauty in life and rain- 
bowed it with an Immortal Dream. I’m the happiest man in all the world 
and I owe it all to you.” 

‘‘When they reached the house, Fannetta and Ralvert announced 
their engagement and received the cordial congratulations of Jerrold and 
Elna. 

‘‘But, dear Ralvert, you must stay here three days longer, and then 
I’ll let you go to that horrid old New York to see your publishers and to 
wind up your affairs back there, for when you return to me I’m never—- 
no, never going to let you go away again. You’re to be all mine and I 
shall not let any other woman even look at you,” stipulated Fannetta. 

‘‘All right, little sweetheart; that is just the way I feel about you, 
and I’m going to live for you only. I think I can wind up my affairs 
back east and get back here inside of a month; so you can go ahead and 
make all your arrangements and be ready for the event when I return,” 
said Ralvert, with his soul doing the altogether in his steady brown eyes. 

‘‘And you must write me a long letter every day,” exacted the little 
witch, and her wonderful eyes could not be denied. 

It was thus arranged and the next three days were indeed perfect 
ones to the four youngsters. Ralvert and Jerrold had become fast friends, 
and this greatly pleased Fannetta. The three days soon wore away and 
Ralvert bade his fiancee good-bye and took his leave of Elna and Jerrold. 

‘‘Well, sister, I think you have picked a winner,” said Jerrold that 
evening as he and his sister were returning from driving Ralvert to the 
stopo in Shreveport. 

‘‘He’s the only man in all the world, dear brother, and I’m so glad 
that you and Elna like him. Oh! we’ll all be so happy—won’t we, 
Jerrold?” 

‘‘I see nothing in the way of it,” returned Jerrold, with enthusiasm. 

‘‘And you and Elna must not think of running away because he is 
going to be a member of our family. There is plenty of room here for us 
all, and I just couldn’t do without you and Elna and little Elnece. Oh, 
brother! I’m so glad you found Elna—she’s such a wonderful little woman 
—and, oh, her music! The place would be dead without her;” and she 
squeezed her brother’s arm and sighed with happiness. 


350 


RED KLOVER. 


Chapter XII. 

THE RAINBOW’S END 

Ralvert went direct to New York by rail, and from there sent in 
his resignation to his employers in Chicago. He sent a brief letter to the 
Detective Agency, resigning and giving as his reason his failure to get 
track again of the cashier after tracing him to New York; also, he had 
decided to take up another line of work—writing stories, etc. This letter 
caused chagrin and astonishment when it reached the Agency in the 
Windy City. 

“Well, I’m sure surprised to hear that Chase has turned writer; 
but I’ll bet a few ducats that he succeeds at it,’’ observed the manager 
of the Agency after reading the letter a second time. “This is the first 
time he ever failed to bring in his man; but it’s just as well that he didn’t, 
for the old banker told me yesterday that they had decided to drop the 
case against their cashier, as the boy had replaced all the money and 
$50,000 besides thru not knowing that the $50,000 he left with his wife 
when he fled had been returned to the bank by the little woman; and as 
the expenses of Chase in chasing the cuss pretty much around the globe 
only totaled up to $20,000, the cashier’s wife has a credit of $30,000 on 
the bank’s books. They have communicated that fact to her people in 
St. Louis; so she’ll get back that much of the $50,000 her husband left 
with her when he fled,’’ explained the manager to his partners. 

Ralvert also dispatched a letter to the bank president, saying that 
he was unable to find the cashier, and also informing that individual that 
he had given up the pursuit and had quit the detective business entirely. 
“The money you advanced me for expenses has just covered the expenses, 
and as I failed to capture him, you don’t owe me any salary; in fact, 
we are even to date and are quits,’’ concluded the detective in his letter. 
This letter, however, never reached Mr. Fenners, for he got drowned the 
day before in a Wisconsin lake where he was summering and fishing. 
When Ralvert read of the banker’s mishap, he merely smiled and quoted: 
“Vengeance is mine.’’ 

Ralvert went to Chicago in a week after sending in his resignation, 
gathered up his personal effects and settled up a little business there, and 
then went to Minneapolis; he remained in the Mill City three days, and 
then went to Omaha and rested two days in that near-righteous city, and 
then departed for Denver; here he tarried five days, and then went 
direct to Fort Worth, Texas; one day there, and then two days in Dallas; 
then direct to Shreveport, disguised as an old woman. He took all these 
precautions to prevent the Agency or anyone else from tracing him to 


THE END OF A LONG TRAIL. 


35i 


Shreveport—in case anyone was trying to do so. Of course, he did not 
know at the time that the case against Jerroid had been dropped, and he 
was more than anxious to protect the boy against any trouble that might 
come to him. He remained a full week in Shreveport in his old woman 
disguise, and made sure that he had not been shadowed, and also made 
certain that no detective was nosing around there from Chicago. Then 
he called Jerroid and told him he had just got back to town. This was 
Saturday morning, and Jerroid and Elna drove in during the afternoon 
and carried him out to the plantation as their guest. He asked Jerroid 
not to tell his wife or sister of his arrival. He remained out at the 
plantation till Monday, and then Jerroid and Fannetta drove him in and he 
took lodgings at an obscure boarding-house. On Thursday of that week 
he and Fannetta were quietly married out at the Hopkins home, and 
Jerroid and Elna seconded them. A quiet week’s rest at the Hopkins 
home, and then the four of them took a wedding trip and a vacation com¬ 
bined to New Orleans and back on the Hopkins yacht; and oh, what a 
happy time they had! They sang and played and fished and loved and 
dreamed, and were gone a little more than six weeks. 

While in New Orleans they all went and looked over the timber land 
that Jerroid had recently purchased. “That’s a mighty fine piece of 
land and I advise that you hang on to it,’’ said Ralvert to Jerroid and 
Fannetta. They both agreed to do so, and five years later they sold the 
tract of 6,000 acres for $2,000,000. Valuable oil had been discovered 
on it. When Jerroid returned home, he had about $143,000 in cash. 

Two years after Fannetta’s marriage Jerroid and Elna went up to 
St. Louis to visit Elna’s parents, and they persuaded Ralvert and Fannetta 
to go along and make a vacation out of the trip. They all went on the 
yacht and surely did have a real time. 

While in St. Louis, Elna drew the $30,000 with interest out of the 
Chicago bank, and that happily severed the last string that bound them 
to the Windy City. It was about seven months after Fannettta’s mar¬ 
riage that Ralvert learned that the case against his brother-in-law had long 
ago been dropped. The last shadow thus passed away, and he con¬ 
sidered that he had more than 1 von the case. What do you think about 
it, my readers? 

Ralvert devoted his time and talents to literary work, and in less 
than five years he had earned more than a million with his pen—“And 
this is so much better than being a continual sneak and trailing my own 
species—to their ruin.’’ Mr. Chase wrote some very clever detective 
stories, and his former experience in that field had furnished him with 


35 2 


RED KLOVER. 


plenty of material for those stories; but the great Goddess of Love had 
made him so happy that he preferred to write love stories. 

The two happy couples lived together, and Jerrold acted as the 
superintendent of the plantation, and Ralvert just wrote and wrote and 
made Fannetta an ideal husband. Once every year they would all take 
a jaunt to the Crescent City on their yacht, the Red Wing. 

Ralvert and his beautiful wife were always happy, and had two 
beautiful and perfect children, which greatly enhanced their happiness 
and helped to exalt their lives. 

Mr. Chase attributed all his great success and happiness in life to 
two things: Love and Happiness. These two unseen forces gripped his 
sou/, changed his ideas and ideals, and directed his footsteps in the right 
direction—the flower-path that leads to the top. 


The End. 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


Chapter I. 

About the middle of September, 1887, a quaint and picturesque- 
looking individual blew into a small California city of about twelve hun¬ 
dred inhabitants. An old-fashioned Indian summer had just set in and 
the air was soft and delicious and had a balminess and hazy far-offness that 
caused one to wander to the woods and streams—just to dream and live, 
and forget all else. California has a brand of hazy Indian summer weather 
that gets in the blood and writes vers libre on the soul. Business is im¬ 
possible when these Indian summer germs get in the blood and begin to 
wireless the soul. Even a real-estate shark forgets his ferocity and hunger 
and becomes almost human. When one is under the weird spell of these 
whispering primeval breezes, he loses his claws and fangs and becomes a 
poet and troubadour, and every tree and vine and wind-swayed bush 
reaches out to him with soft and unseen hands, and he feels the sweet and 
sacred thrill of universal brotherhood; his whole being is now en rapport 
with all the hidden forces of the universe, and the delicate tints of flowers 
and their indescribable fragrance can now commune with him—their word¬ 
less language is now understood, and eloquent. His soul is now beckoning 
the whole world to come and get acquainted—to clasp his outstretched 
hands and visit thru his mind. He slips off into the deep and silent woods 
to be alone, but the whole world comes and sits with him under the big 
cypress and banyan trees, and he feels their unseen arms about him. Hap¬ 
piness? Ah! it is too tame a word. Joy? Not much better. The human 
language is so poor at times—and this is one of the times. The little vine- 
clad city, with its quaint old buildings and gardened homes, nestles along 
the soft and dreamy Sacramento River. Where it requires little effort to 
make a living, people naturally get lazy and dreamy. 

This quaint and picturesque individual came riding slowly down the 
valley one afternoop in September, and after riding slowly around town for 
an hour on his big yellow stallion, he drew up at a hitching-post on a 
side street toward the river and dismounted. The animal was as pictur¬ 
esque and unusual as its master. It was a decendant of the beautiful and 
picturesque wild horses that used to roam the Sacramento Valley before the 
coming of the White Man—with his blistering “ civilizationSyphiliza- 
tion would be nearer the truth. These wild and primeval horses were 
long and rangy—lithe and sinewy with the gracefulness and poise of the 



354 


RDE KLOVER. 


tiger, the alertness of the Indian, and the pride and wild dignity of the 
mountain ram and the imperial eagle. Their movements were poetry melted 
in music. They were exceedingly clannish and kept to themselves—dis¬ 
daining all efforts of the common Mustangs to sociability and fraternity. 
The wild Mustang is a mongrel—evidently a cross between a bob-cat, 
a tarantula, a cactus, a prairie dog, a rattlesnake, a buzzard, a Greaser, an 
arroya, a Russian thistle, a sand-bur, forty-rod whisky, yellow fever, and 
the Devil. These other magnificent horses were an indescribable tawny 
shade, with black feet and a dark red star in their foreheads. They were 
the aristocrats of the equine world, and refused all social recognition to the 
proletarians or bourgeoisie. These splendid creatures possessed a high 
degree of intelligence and loyalty. They were very swift and could out¬ 
run anything that went on legs—even the jack-rabbit was a tinhorn when 
compared with a Valgus —the old Aztec name for these weird and unusual 
animals. The Aztecs had a legend that when an Aztec hero died in battle 
defending his tribe, the Great Red Father (Azteron) provided his spirit 
with a Valgus for his journey to the Happy Hunting Grounds or “ Great 
Valleys Beyond.” If the departing spirit had a Valgus for his Pegasus, 
there could be no such thing as an enemy following and overtaking him. 
The Valgus was their Charon, it seems. How this Strange Man ever came 
in possession of a Valgus was never known. The animal was a magnifi¬ 
cent specimen of its kind and a stallion. The Valgi have been extinct for 
more than a thousand years, and few people, even among scientists and 
ripe scholars, ever heard of these weird and romantic animals. 

It was about an even toss-up between the Doctor and his strange 
mount as to which received the most attention from the sleepy natives. 
They had never seen such an animal, and seldom such a man. The 
Doctor was about thirty-five years old in his stocking feet, 6 feet and 9 
inches tall, and weighed about 220 pounds. He wore a long and poetic- 
looking moustache and a wide-rimmed and rakish-looking pearl gray hat 
with a wide band that was a soft sumac red. His features were rugged 
and regular, with a rather prominent nose and a large mouth with moder¬ 
ately full red lips. His eyes were a dreamy shade of tawny hazel, and 
his face always bore a soft and quiet smile. His teeth were perfect, and 
his hands were rather long and slender, but had the quickness and strength 
of a panther. His hair was like the tawny twilight of a Cuban moon as it 
shimmers out across the harbor in Septober. His hair was long and came 
down to the saddle as he sat his Valgus, and it would be hard to differ¬ 
entiate it from the tawny mane of the Valgus. He wore a long Prince 
Albert coat of soft and hazy gray material, trimmed with a soft shade of 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


355 


sumac red—the same color as his hatband. His trousers and vest were of 
the same materials, and he wore very high and rakish-looking boots of a 
soft gray leather. His trousers were tucked in his boot-tops. He wore 
long gray gauntlet gloves. Around the wrist end of his coat sleeves were 
five stripes of braid; four of these stripes were the same shade of red as 
his hatband, but the center band or stripe was a tawny yellow. Above 
these stripes were three red stars of the same shade of red. He wore a 
flannel shirt made of the finest materials, of a deep cherry red and embroid¬ 
ered with gold lace, a big wide and soft rolling collar, and a big silver 
gray tie, on which sparkled and gleamed a magnificent canary diamond 
that was 7 karats and perfect. 

After dismounting, the Doctor put his arm around his horse’s neck 
and caressed the splendid animal and rubbed his face against the animal’s 
face; then, after receiving the same affectionate caresses from the Valgus , 
he reached over and whispered something in the creature’s ears, and it 
actually smiled and nodded its understanding and assent. Then he walked 
lazily across the street and entered a big saloon and gambling- and dance- 
hall. These places were plentiful in those good old days. The Doctor 
bowed with a smile to the bartender as he seated himself at a table. He 
wanted a bottle of their best wine and a dozen of the best cigars the house 
afforded. He tossed a $20 gold-piece on the table, leaned back, placed 
his feet on the table, slowly sipped the wine, and then lighted a cigar and 
lazily blew fantastic rings of smoke toward the ceiling. He seemed in a 
deep reverie and utterly oblivious to his surroundings and the attention he 
was receiving from the habitues and chance business men who dropped in 
anon to slake their ever-recurring thirst and exchange current gossip. The 
Doctor paid not the slightest attention to any of them. He was enjoying 
himself in his own way—why should others not do the same? Cigar after 
cigar drifted away in smoke—and with his fancies or dreams. At intervals 
he would pour himself another glass of the sparkling wine, and between 
puffs at his Perfectos and Havanas he easily sipped the dream nectar with 
all the languid and lazy indifference of a Spanish grandee at his siesta. 

“Who the blazes is ther critter, Joe?’’ whispered the boss to his 
bartender. 

“Search me, Tom; ther hombre just rode down ther valley on er 
big yeller stud-hoss, hitched ther critter over yander, and then blew in here 
and ordered ther best ther place has. He’s sure er distinguished-lookin’ 
cuss anyway, and he tosses double eagles erround as tho they were only 
marbles!’’ 

“Here, bartender! bring me another bottle of that dream stuff , and 


RED KLOVER. 


35 6 

a whole box of those cigars to dream with it.” The Doctor slammed down 
another twenty yellow-boy and lazily raked in the change frona his first 
purchase. Then he gracefully tackled the new goods, and it didn’t require 
a clairvoyant or a ouija board to discover that he had a thirst and liked 
good tobacco. He continued to thus enjoy himself for about an hour, and 
then lazily got up and sauntered out. He stowed the cigars about his 
clothes, but left part of the wine in the bottle on the table. 

‘‘Fine day. Come again, stranger,” waved Tom Dean, the proprie¬ 
tor, after him as he departed. 

“Si, senor. Adios .” That was all, but it was said so gracefully 
and with such an air of kindness that the stranger was at once voted the 
‘‘right sort” by the bar-flies and habitues. 

The Doctor next entered a grocery store and purchased half a dozen 
apples and a sack of lump sugar. Then he proceeded to Rex Valgus, 
and, with one arm around the steed’s neck, he fed the apples and sugar to 
the animal. Then he rode to a livery stable and made arrangements to 
have Rex (King) taken care of in the best style the place afforded; he 
unsaddled Rex and personally gave the creature a rubbing or hand- 
massage. Then he inquired of the proprietor of the hork (livery stable) 
where the best hotel was and who ran it. 

“It’s back about two blocks from the Square, and the Widder Mel¬ 
vin and her two darters run it,” warmly explained Jack Masters. ‘‘By 
ther way, stranger, be yew goin’ ter stay with us long?” asked Jack, more 
as a means of getting acquainted than anything else. 

“Perhaps. Don’t forget what I told you about Rex Valgus. Adios , 
senor .” And before Jack could come back with a side-step or a left¬ 
swing, the Doctor was on his way to the hotel. 

Chapter II. 

THE DOCTOR LIKES THE HOTEL AND— 

The Doctor lighted a fresh cigar and lazily walked toward the hotel. 
He soon arrived and climbed up on the big southeast portico that was 
covered with vines and redolent with the fragrance of millions of flowers. 
He helped himself to a big rocker and proceeded to smoke and inwardly 
enjoy the quiet and beauty of the place. It was one of those old-fashioned 
Colonial houses with wide porticos and almost buried in a wilderness of 
tangled vines and flowers; and thousands of birds flitted about and poured 
out their souls in joyful songs. It was on a high bank overlooking the soft 
and quiet river, and the clear and sparkling waters reflected the soft and 
soul-teasing moonlight all over the place. It was an ideal place to dream 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


357 

and love, and the Doctor, like all other mortals, was not averse to the love - 
game—when he had the right partner. 

After about forty minutes on the porch, the Doctor’s reverie was 
broken by the soft and plaintive notes of a guitar that was accompanied 
by the sweetest and softest alto voice he had ever heard. He realized at 
once that a master hand was playing, and the voice belonged to an artist—- 
or an angel. Dr. Nobody threw away his cigar, brushed the ashes off his 
clothes, and listened—like a bird that is being hypnotized by a snake and 
is powerless to fly away. There was something about the music and the 
voice that made Doc’s whole being sway in unison with it. The more he 
listened the more restless and nervous he became. “O pshaw! this won’t 
do. Why, Doc, old boy, you’re getting as nervous and sentimental as a 
squaw!” He laffed at himself and started to light another Perfecto, but 
just then the draperies at one of the big French windows parted softly and 
a petite and beautiful girl of slender and aristocratic mould stepped out 
on the veranda and continued to play and sing as she eased over to a big 
divan near the front of the porch. She seemed oblivious to the Doctor’s 
presence and kept right on with her music. She could not have helped 
seeing him and smelling his cigars; and yet she seemed utterly unaware of 
his presence. She appeared to be about eighteen years old and had the 
most wonderful hair of the darkest and richest brown, and great purple 
eyes that were softer and more brilliant than any moonlight. Her features 
were perfect, and her face had a sweet girlish wholesomeness and a quaint 
and quiet dignity that made her very graceful—and desirable. 

Doc listened like a fascinated bird, and grew more nervous and found 
it difficult to restrain himself. ‘‘If she would only speak or do something 
to give me an excuse for butting-in; but, confound it! she just sits there 
like a fairy and sings on as tho she were the only mortal on earth. I 
wonder who she is? Lordy! but she’s a beaut—with the accent on everp 
syllable.” After quite a long time, she switched her music and began to 
play an old Spanish love-song that Doc knew well and liked. Here was 
his opportunity. He first began to whistle it and kept perfect time with 
her playing and singing. 

‘‘Ah! I have an audience —have I not?” she inquired politely at the 
end of the verse she was singing. 

‘‘Not much of an audience, I guess, senorita; but, if you will pardon 
my enthusiasm, I should esteem it a great favor if you will continue that 
song and permit me to help you,” said Doc, with all his Old School 
gallantry and politeness. 

‘‘Certainly, senor; but before we proceed I should like to know 


RED KLOVER. 


358 

whom I have the honor of entertaining;” and she looked straight at him, 
but did not seem to see him at all. 

‘‘Ah! certainly, senorita; I am Dr. Nobody from Nowhere;’* and 
he swept her a profound bow and continued to look his admiration. 

‘‘Oh, indeed! and I’m Miss Somebody from Somewhere , and I like 
cute people above everything else in this dreary old world.” 

Then she proceeded with the song, and the Doctor chimed in and 
sang in a clear and musical tenor that romped beautifully with her weird 
alto. After she had sung the last verse, she continued to play it as a solo, 
and he chipped in and whistled it with her. Then she played a number 
of other pieces with the skillful touch of the master, but he was just as 
expert with his whistling. 

‘‘Doctor, you are some musician all right. Do you play any instru¬ 
ment?” she queried. 

‘‘Oh, yes; I drum a little on a few. If you will lend me your guitar, 
I’ll play you a few chords,” answered the Doctor. 

‘‘Oh, certainly! here you are, Doctor and she passed over the instru¬ 
ment. 

Then Doctor Nobody turned himself loose and for an hour she 
never heard such wonderful playing. He also sang a few songs and the 
girl was carried away by his music. 

‘‘Doctor, I should like to hear you play the piano,” she said. 

‘‘I hope to have that pleasure, senorita;” and he again bowed low 
and gazed his admiration. ‘‘You’ll excuse me now, senorita, for I must 
find the landlady of this hostelry, as I wish to secure lodgings and some¬ 
thing to keep my ribs apart.” 

‘‘Oh! and that is it?” and she laffed softly to herself. 

‘‘Yes, that is the size of it and explains why I happened to come 
here,” he went on. 

‘‘Very well—you just remain here, senor, and I’ll go and see if I 
can find mamma;” and she bestowed another soul-chasing smile on him. 

‘‘Oh, how jolly! Just to think that your dear mother is the boniface. 
Have you any brothers and sisters?” 

‘‘Just one sister—Mestel. She is two years my senior.” 

‘‘But that doesn’t tell me just how old you are nor what your name 
is?” coaxed the Doctor. 

“My name is Nexel Vestour. And now. Dr. Nobody , won’t you 
be gentlemanly enuff to tell me you real name?” and her voice had all the 
soft and caressing music of the moonlight after 2 a. m. in the valley of 
the Nile. 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


359 


“Really, Mademoiselle Vestour, I told you the truth, and I’m sorry 
you thot I was joshing you or trying to be smart;’’ and his voice was 
strangely soft and tender. 

“But surely you have a first name P” she persisted, like a gaunt and 
hungry mosquito in eastern Texas early in April. 

“Oh, yes—but I seldom use it. I just prefer to be known as Dr. 
Nobody from Nowhere. My first name is Nefton, and the last name I 
never knew;’’ and a tone of sadness tinged his musical voice. 

“Oh, how interesting. Doctor! You don’t know who you are nor 
the names of your parents? Please tell me all about yourself since you 
have aroused my curiosity,’’ pleaded Nexel, with a soft and caressing tone 
that few men could resist; and Doc was not one of the few—so he 
promised to relate his antecedents at some future time. 

“Ah! here comes mater now;’’ and she went forward and met her 
mother, and then turned and introduced the Doctor. 

“I’m pleased to meet you, Doctor, and I hope you have come to 
locate with us, for the town certainly needs a real physician;’’ and her 
voice had a tone of accusation against the local medicos. 

“Delighted, madame;’’ and he made her a low obeisance, and after 
a few commonplaces he asked if she could accommodate him with a room 
and board. 

“To be sure we can. Doctor; and we’ll try to make you comfort¬ 
able and like the place so well you’ll stay with us and help the poor sick 
people here. Just come this way and I’ll show you a room—the big 
southeast room that overlooks the river and the valley beyond. In the 
mornings it is flooded with sunlight and is cool and inviting in the evenings.’’ 

“Ah! this is something like, madame, and I know I can have pleasant 
dreams in such a fairy nest. What price per week for the room and 
board?’’ 

“Ten dollars a week will be about right, I guess;’’ and she looked 
him over with ill-concealed delight. * 

“That will be quite satisfactory, Mrs. Melvin;’’ and he drew out a 
well-filled wallet and peeled off a ten-spot, but she refused to accept it 
then. 

“You can pay at the end of the week or once a month—just as you 
like,*’ she said. 

“Very well; any time you want it I shall have it ready.’’ 

Then Doc took a bath and shaved himself, and had just finished 
these little operations when the old-fashioned supper-bell sang a welcome 
solo. After partaking of a hearty supper of fresh fish and many other 


360 


RED KLOVER. 


good things, the Doctor strolled into the spacious big parlor and found an 
old Chickering piano that was almost new—one that was made when 
pianos were made for use instead of for profit. As no one was in the 
parlor, Doc seated himself at Old Chick and began to dream down the 
vistas of keys; and oh, boy, but Doc was a dreamer when it came to 
music! The old hostelry had heard some mighty good musicians, but 
Doc was a master and his music thrilled everyone who heard it. He 
wasn’t alone long, and in less than ten minutes the room was packed with 
everyone in the hotel. Even the cook and hotel employees crowded the 
corridors and rubbered in whenever they could do so. Nexel and her sister 
soon came in, and Doc was conscious that the former was standing near 
him, altho he pretended not to be aware of her presence. He soon switched 
into some of the songs he had heard her play that afternoon, and soon 
their voices melted together and drifted away thru the valley like perfumed 
melody on a holiday. They were applauded to the skies, and everybody 
wanted to meet the distinguished musician and physician. After about an 
hour. Doc ceased playing and strolled out on the porch and lighted a cigar 
and proceeded to dream away on the nicotine clouds he sent toward the 
sky. After enjoying two of the Havanas, he sauntered off about town 
and took a turn down along the river. 

About ten o’clock he returned to the hotel, and after a brief chat 
with a few of the transient guests, he retired and had pleasant dreams that 
night—but not about patients. Oh my, no! Doc had something more 
interesting to think about. After he threw himself across the soft and 
downy bed and the glorious California moonlight flooded his room and he 
was enjoying the weird and magnetic effect of the moonlight as it wrote 
vers libre all over his sensorium, he murmured to himself—and the moon¬ 
light: “Oh, Doc, old boy, what a girl, what epes, what hair, what a 
face, and what a voice and form! Yes, she’s got me, and I feel like a 
confounded maverick caught outside the corral; but I never dreamed that 
any confounded petticoat could put its brand on me—but I’m branded all 
right—and belong to her/’* Then he got up and looked at himself closely 
in the mirror for a long time, and at last grunted: “O fool, thy name is 
Man!" 

Doc passed a restless night and dreamed all sorts of impossible things, 
and when he heard the first breakfast bell at 7 o’clock, he bounced almost 
to the ceiling and was soon in his bath. At ten minutes to eight he entered 
the dining-room and was greeted by Smiles, the dining-room girl, and 
piloted to a beautifully decorated table near one of the big south windows. 
Here the soft and soothing Southwind came gently drifting in and at once 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


361 


put the Doctor in a dreamy mood and scared the tremors out of his pulsing 
nerves. He at once fell in with the mood of his old pal, the Southwind, 
and gazed dreamily out across the beautiful and lazy Sacramento River 
and the flower-dotted valley beyond. It was just the spot for the Doctor 
and had evidently been carefully selected by someone who was also artistic 
and poetical—and who might be interested in the strange physician. Six 
men and one lady were in the dining-room when Doc entered, and they 
had all noticed how dainty and artistically the Doctor’s table was arranged 
—and fell to speculating about it. To the Doctor, however, it had no 
particular significance. 

He had just begun on his fruit and cantaloupe when Nexel and 
Mestel came in arm-in-arm and chatting pleasantly. They seated them¬ 
selves at the Doctor’s table and greeted him cordially, and then the three 
of them fell into an easy and matter-of-fact conversation that took in many 
subjects. The Doctor asked many questions about the town and its people, 
and the young ladies readily gave him a brief history of the place, and 
when he had finished his meal he knew who was who in Bendville. The 
two young ladies accompanied the Doctor to the parlor, but he declined 
to play or sing—“Too early and I never feel very muscial right after a 
meal.’’ After a few minutes, Mrs. Melvin looked in and greeted the 
Doctor pleasantly and signaled for Mestel to come and help her. This 
left the Doctor and Nexel alone—just what both desired. This was the 
real reason the Doctor declined to play and sing—he did not want an 
audience just then. 

“Now that we are alone, Doctor, I’m just dying to hear your story 
—and if I’m rightly impressed by it, I may be lenient and give you a 
light sentence!” laffed the girl good-naturedly and in a bantering way 
that only made her more irresistible and desirable. 

Doc did like people with a sense of humor and who were smart at 
repartee—and this time he found an opponent worthy of his mental steel. 

“Oh, thank you, most righteous judge! But I fear my story will 
tax your credulity and I’ll get a lifer,” laffed Doc in return. 

“Court is now in session, senor—proceed.” She assumed a dignified 
air and tapped the floor with her small and dainty foot. 

Chapter III. 

THE DOCTOR’S STORY AND DISCOVERY. 

“My earliest recollections go back to the time when I was about 
five years old. I just recall being brot to Philadelphia by some sailors. 
Where they got me I do not know. They carried me to a modest little 


362 


RED KLOVER. 


home in the southern part of the city and left me with a ruff and blustery 
middle-aged man named Captain Tobin Warren. The Captain w r as an 
immense man and gruff, but good-hearted. He ran his ruff fingers thru 
my long curly locks and said: ‘There, sonny—don’t be afraid; you’re now 
my boy, and we’re goin’ ter be great pals.’ Then he lifted me up and 
tossed me in the air like a ball and caught me as I came down. This 
frightened me, but I was game and would not cry. Then he squeezed 
me like a grizzly, and from then on I secretly liked him and trusted him. 
I was hungry, but wouldn’t let on that I wanted food. The Captain’s 
eldest sister—Aunt Helen, we called her—kept house for her brother. 
She was rather indifferent to me at first, but gradually became more 
friendly, and finally was quite fond of me. The Captain was an honest 
and blunt man of little education, but he liked me from the start and was 
always kind to me. He took me with him when he went shopping or 
about town, or to the parks or theaters. I was crazy about the theaters, 
and always liked to get down in the first row where I could watch the 
musicians of the orchestra play. After each performance I surprised the 
Captain by whistling everything I had heard played. I heard him tell 
Aunt Helen one day: ‘The little cuss is sure full of music, and when he 
gets a little older I’ll take him to a good music teacher and see what can 
be done for him.’ Aunt Helen allowed it would cost some money; but 
the Captain said: ‘It makes no difference—the boy shall have an edu¬ 
cation.’ So when I was seven I was put under the tutelage of Professor 
Sudendorf, a master of the piano and violin. I learned rapidly everything 
in the music line, and two years later was given voice culture. 

“The Captain carried me with him on several of his trips—once to 
the Bermudas, once to Buenos Aires, twice to New Orleans and Galves- 
tion, and once to Benares, India; also, to Brest and Hamburg. I love 
the sea—it has always seemed like a mother to me. From the time I was 
fifteen to eighteen I traveled with the Captain almost constantly, and 
helped him in many ways aboard the boat—such as keeping his books, 
writing the log, and entertaining the passengers with my musical abilities 
and other stunts. On one of our return trips from Palermo we had a 
famous medical author and professor in the Jefferson Medical College 
of Philadelphia as a first-cabin passenger, and as he was a musician him¬ 
self, he took an interest in me and talked with me as much as he could. 
He seemed sure I would make a great doctor, and finally persuaded the 
Captain to put me under his tutelage and he would put me thru the 
Medical College with high honors. In four years my medical education 
was completed, and I graduated with high honors and was our class vale- 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


363 

dictorian. Then I went to Pittsburgh and formed a partnership with 
another graduate of our class, but after two years we dissolved partnership 
and I returned to Philadelphia, and after visiting the Captain a few weeks, 
I booked as medical officer on a ship sailing to the Orient. We went to 
Hongkong and Pekin and back via Manila and Honolulu. I remained 
with the Ship Company as medical officer for three years, and after our 
last trip to Melbourne and Adelaide, with a short stop at Auckland, we 
returned to San Francisco. Here I decided to locate and enter into a 
private practice. I remained there five years and did quite well, but the 
wanderlust was hard to get out of my blood; so I traveled up and down 
the coast and out thru the mountains and got interested in mining, and by 
a lucky streak cleaned up enuff to put me over on Easy Street for the 
remainder of my days. While in the Far East I got interested in the 
occult sciences and made a special study of hypnotism, telepathy, mind¬ 
reading, voodooism, etc. I studied these things more out of curiosity than 
anything else. I also studied jiu-jitsu, boxing, wrestling, and all-around 
athletics. I always was an expert shot, and have a strange sense of hear¬ 
ing that few mortals possess; in fact, I’m quite a freak and lunatic.” 

‘‘Hardly that, Doctor; but did you ever learn who your parents 
were?” 

‘‘Not a thing about my parents or how the sailors came in possession 
of me. They just told the Captain I was nobody, and he allowed that 
would be as good a name as any; so I became known as Nefton Nobody, 
and after my graduation in medicine, I prefixed the medical title, and as 
I have roamed pretty much all over the globe, and lived but little in any 
one place, I just annexed the ‘from nowhere’ for fun and to see the rubes 
stare and ask questions. I always had a strong sense of humor and easily 
saw thru the pretensions of people. I soon discovered that the practice of 
medicine is mostly conjecture and humbug, and if the doctor is foolish 
enuff to take himself seriously and try to ‘cure’ sick people by the admin¬ 
istration of poisons, he soon finds himself without a practice. I early lost 
faith in the profession, and never made much of an effort to gain a practice 
that pays well. I have a wide and deep sympathy for sick people, and 
have often done them more good with my music than with my medicine.” 

‘‘Excuse me. Doctor, but how in the world could you treat sick 
people with music?” asked Nexel, with wonder all over her beautiful face. 

‘‘Easily enuff, when you understand the psychology of sickness. The 
first thing to do is to get them to relax and soothe them, and make them 
forget themselves and their ailments, and I have been very successful in 
accomplishing this with my music. It s a great diversion and has a 


RED KLOVER. 


364 

sedative action on the nervous system. After they become relaxed and 
diverted and their nerves soothed and quieted, their minds are in a receptive 
mood, and then I can do wonders in the way of hypnotic Suggestions. As 
soon as their minds have absorbed my suggestions and these suggestions 
are recorded on the subconscious mind, I resort to hot baths and massage 
and cleanse them both internally and externally, and then, with a little 
judicious fasting and a proper diet and exercise, I accomplish good results 
where years of medication have utterly failed.” 

‘‘Wonderful, Doctor! Splendid! Bravo! So music is largely 
your materia medica?” 

“Yes, and it never leaves any bad or mal effects.” 

“Doctor, I have great faith in pou and believe in your startling 
methods and innovations—perhaps you might do something for mp case?” 
and she looked straight at him—but did not see him with her eyes, for she 
was totally blind; and yet he had not noticed it. 

“Your case!” he exclaimed, and he jumped up and glared at her in 
amazement. “Why, what is the matter with pou?” 

Chapter IV. 

DR. NOBODY’S OFFICE AND DOOR SIGN.—HIS FIRST 

PATIENT. 

Nexel’s calm announcement that she had “a case” was the blow 
that “almost killed father,” for he was so excited and blooey about the 
girl that he had not noticed her critically with the eye of the trained physi¬ 
cian. He had studied her more with the bashful scrutiny of the lover, 
and was only aware of her purity and unexcelled beauty—just the type 
of a girl that fitted his heart and “palled” with his soul; and he was 
aware that she also liked him. What more did he want to know? She 
seemed to go about just like the others and seemed to know just where 
everything was. Since losing her sight she had developed a weird and un¬ 
canny sense of hearing and feeling—both with the physical sense of touch 
and the still more wonderful sense of intuition or just knowing things with¬ 
out any apparent means of gaining the knowledge. This method of 
knowing things is called intuition, or the sixth sense, and is often unerring. 
It is generally more highly developed in women than in men, and is always 
stronger in blind persons. It is one of Nature’s delicate methods of com¬ 
pensation. His every nerve was tensed and every ganglion (telegraph 
station) sizzled. 

“Why surely, Doctor, you know I’m blind P” and she looked into 
his eyes—and beyond. 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


365 


“Never dreamed of such a thing; you don’t indicate it in any way, 
and there is absolutely nothing the matter with your eyes or general health,” 
he declared with conviction. 

“That’s what the greatest of your profession have told me after 
making minute examinations of my eyes and body and brain; nothing, 
apparently, is wrong or amiss, and yet I have been totally blind since my 
fourteenth year, and I am now nearly twenty.” 

“A very extraordinary case of ‘ klimul ,’ as the Mystics of the East 
term it. It is wholly a psychic or mental ailment, and that is why the 
oculists and surgeons cannot put their fingers on it; as they are not up on 
the occult sciences, it simply baffles and puzzles them. I saw two cases 
in Benares, and thru the courtesy of a native priest, who was also a very 
learned physician, it was explained to me, and I was initiated into the 
mysteries of its treatment.” 

“Oh, Doctor! do you mean to tell me there is hope for me—that 
you can restore my sight?” and she came forward and clasped his hands 
and became almost hysterical. 

“Calm yourself, Miss Vestour. It will be a very simple matter to 
restore your sight—if you will follow my instructions implicitly;” and he 
gently led her to a big rocker and seated her. “Just be calm now and 
don’t get excited, and in a short while I’ll be ready to begin your treat¬ 
ment. In the meanwhile I have many things to do and must be about 
them. Also, not a word of my autobiography to a soul. I don’t know 
ivhy I was ever presumptuous and silly enuff to confide my private affairs 
to you, but as I have done so, I shall expect you to honor my confidence 
by keeping it all under your hat. Au revoir. Miss Ves—” 

“No, no; just call me Nexel —please do. Doctor.” 

“Very well, Nexel; and now I’m just Nefton —when rve are a/one.” 

“Yes, Nefton dear, everything shall be just as you wish;” and she 
ran away like a frightened fawn—not even colliding with the furniture. 

The Doctor then went around to the hork to say good morning to 
Rex and see that the animal had been properly cared for. Everything 
was O. K. at the barn, so he soon found a small empty store building on a 
side street and that faced the south and the river. He rented this for his 
office, and soon had it furnished and an excellent new piano installed. 
Then he got a drayman and went to the stopo, and had quite a load of 
stuff carted to his office and a big trunk and several other pieces of 
baggage carried to the hotel. In addition to the new piano he bought in 
Bendville, he had a rare old violin, a very fine guitar, banjo, mandolin, 
cornet, trombone, harp, clarionet, accordion, and harmonica—and he was 


366 


RED KLOVER. 


a master on all of them. He had a big collection of music and quite a 
library and a wonderful electrical apparatus. He had a Winchester rifle, 
a double-barreled shotgun, two big six-shooters, a sword, two Bowie knives, 
and a complete gymnasium outfit for exercising and training. The Doctor 
was an all-around athlete and could pull an oar with the best of them. He 
was a crack shot, expert at tennis and golf, could play croquet or poker 
equally well, and when it came to swimming, the fish had nothing on 
him; and when it came to jumping and running, a kangaroo or a jack- 
rabbit had to get up before breakfast to even get a look-in. He was a 
telegrapher and well up in law and astronomy. He was a strange and 
accomplished cuss and did not know how he learned so many things. 
Learning just came natural to him—like swimming does to a duck. When 
he moved in he had quite a crowd of boys and idlers hanging around and 
watching the process with curiosity. He soon had his stuff all moved in, 
and then he went to the court-house and registered as Dr. Nefton Nobody, 
physician and surgeon'. 

“That’s rather a strange name, Doctor?” pleasantly observed the 
clerk of the court. 

“Nobody thinks so after they get used to it,” countered the Doctor. 
“By the way, what is your name, Mr. Clerk?” 

“Gray —Red Gray the boys call me for short. My first name is 
Reding, but everyone calls me Red for short.” 

“Well, Mr. Red Gray, Nobody hasn’t anything on you when it 
comes to strange names. As I rather like freaks and odd names, I hope 
we’ll be friends.” 

“I hope so, too, Doctor. Have you a specialty ?” 

“Oh, yes; I’m a hobby-nag in almost every way. My specialty is 
restoring the sick to health without poisoning them.” 

“Well, good luck to you, Doctor. There’s room here for a doctor 
that’s different from the others.” 

“ Adios , Senor Gray.” Then Doc went to the hotel and did full 
justice to one of “the Widder’s” famous dinners. 

Sing Woo had learned of their strange and talented guest, and being 
a musical fan himself, felt a kinship for the Doctor. Woo had laid 
himself out to get up dainty and delicate little dishes that would appeal 
to the Doctor’s palate—and succeeded. 

“Smiles, who is the cook here?” he asked the waitress just before 
leaving the dining-room. 

“Sing Woo. Why do you ask?” 

“Because he knows how to cook—with a master spoon.” 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE . 


367 


“Oh, thank you, Doctor! I know the Chink will appreciate that, 
for he is not a common Chink, but more like a high-brow or a mandarin. 
We all like him, too, and I don’t know what we would do without him. 
He’s crazy about music and your playing changes his yellow face into a 
Celestial map, and his sandaled feet just go blooey when you touch Old 
Chick,’’ rattled on Smiles, for she was very sociable and also liked Doc. 

Nexel did not appear at the table while the Doctor was there, but 
she was softly dreaming on Old Chick when he strolled into the parlor. 
He thot he could enter and sit down and drink in the sweet melody of her 
music without her knowing it; but he soon discovered it was impossible to 
fool her in any way. She had an uncanny way of knowing things that 
even exceeded his own marvelous powers. She played on and pretended 
she did not know he was present, and then she said, without turning: 
“Come, Neflon , and sing with me.’’ He sat perfectly still and tried to 
make her think he was not there—but it was no go. “Oh! I know you 
are there, dear—I knew the instant you entered, for your eyes sent a 
wireless to my soul. Never try to deceive me, dear—for you cannot 
do so.’’ 

“Wonderful girl! Oh, I’m so glad I’ve found you, Nexel! and 
tomorrow I’ll be ready to begin your treatment;’’ then the Doctor went 
over and stood close to her and laid his hand reverently on her pretty 
tangled hair. She thrilled and blushed with joy; then she reached up and 
clasped his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips, but said nothing—very 
eloquently. Then they drifted off together in an old love-song they both 
knew and liked. Their voices were tuned together by Nature and never 
made a discord. Then the Doctor looked at his watch and said: “I’ll 
have to be going now, dear Nexel, for I’m moving in my office and shall 
be very busy the remainder of the day.’’ He tangled his fingers for a 
moment in her beautiful whispering hair—and then was gone. She con¬ 
tinued to dream on the piano and think of—well, you can guess at her 
thots just as well as I can, so I’ll not waste the time guessing for you. 

Doc went by the hork and stopped long enuff to say “Howdy?” to 
Rex and pet the proud and sensitive creature a little. Doc never neglected 
nor abused Rex. The man and horse were pals and comrades. The 
magnificent yellow stallion was attracting almost as much attention as the 
eccentric physician himself. Doc soon arrived at his office, and pro¬ 
ceeded to unpack and arrange things as he wanted them. He was very 
precise and temperamental and everything had to be just so. Even the 
sagging or tilting of a picture the hundredth part of an inch would tanta¬ 
lize his goat. After everything was disposed of to his entire satisfaction. 


368 


RED KLOVER. 


he went in the back room and soon had a neat sign ready for his front 
door. This sign was a headliner on the program that was destined to shake 
the sleepy little town from its deep reverie and make it sit up and gasp. Doc 
was a humorist of the grim and ironical kind, and often played pranks on 
himself “just to see the natives gasp,” as he termed it; and this sign, or 
“shingle,” as the doctors usually call their business sign, was well qualified 
to yank a few gasps out of the wildest of them. Even Tom and Joe and 
Sing Woo could not get by it without using up a few choice gasps. The 
Doctor was also a very clever artist, and soon had a sign ready that was 
high up in the bird class. We’ll just give it verbatim and let our readers 
judge for themselves: 

DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 

“Quack Doctor ” 

Right under this remarkable sign he sketched three skulls, and then 
printed this ironical observation under the skulls: 

“ TheX) Never Come Back .” 

When Sing Woo read the last line, “They Never Come Back,” he 
chuckled in his peculiar Celestial way and remarked: “Alle same tlutth. 
They never clum black.” 

It was late in the evening when Doc got this remarkable sign on his 
door, but he soon had an audience. 

“Why such a sign. Doctor?’’ asked Joe Byers, a merchant. 

“Just because I like to tell the truth and want to see if I can make 
a living without using deception,” quietly returned Doc. 

This brought immediate applause, and seemed to cover the whole 
field. Then Doc seated himself at the piano and played for about ten 
minutes in such a masterly way the rubes forgot the strange and truthful 
sign and applauded him wildly. 

“Now, friends and fellow-mortals. I’m going to lock Up my tent 
and go to supper, but will be back here at 7:30 and remain for an hour 
and a half. If you want to come back again and get acquainted and 
laf at me and ask questions, all right—I’ll try to accommodate you,” 
he said, and proceeded to carry his words into effect. 

Promptly at 7:30 Doc was back at his office and so were most 
of the citizens, including two of the three local physicians. The crowd 
amounted to more than a thousand people and was in good humor and 
unmercifully guying the other two doctors. 

“Why don’t you two pill-peddlers tell the truth and shame the 
Devil?” humorously asked Sam Harris, foreman of the) only lumber yard 
in town. This caused a tremendous laff at the two medicos, and as both 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


369 

of them had doctored Mrs. Harris and the cemetery finished their work, 
they particularly felt the justice of Sam’s irony. 

Doc thot a little music would be better than medicine, so he enter¬ 
tained them with his banjo and violin for a half-hour. He received a 
tremendous ovation and was encored to the sky. 

Dr. Quack, what’s the idea of all this music and circus parapher¬ 
nalia?” sarcastically asked Dr. Glum, with a sneer. 

‘‘Music puts people in a happy and receptive state of mind and diverts 
their minds from their troubles; besides, it is a part of my life and much 
better than medicines,” replied Doc. 

‘‘So, you expect to employ music instead of drugs in treating your 
patients?” asked Dr. Fuller, with an ill-concealed smile. 

‘‘Largely; and in some cases I get my best results from music. Of 
course, I employ many other methods—it all depends on the case. I 
treat all my patients intelligently—I don’t prescribe a lot of dope dog¬ 
matically for all cases without regard to the case—and then let the 
cemetery finish the job for me;” and Doc gave Dr. Fuller a look that 
was a challenge or anything else the physician cared to consider it. 

The applause that greeted this last shot of Doc’s seemed to be all 
Dr. Fuller could stand in one evening; so he backed out of the swelling 
crowd and disappeared. 

Dr. Glum wasn’t entirely satisfied, so he tried another shot: ‘‘Where’d 
you come from here?” and he winked at one of the druggists who had 
just heard of the entertainment and came as soon as he could fill a 
prescription and lock up. 

‘‘From Nowhere,” was Doc’s prompt answer. 

This caused such a big laff at Glum’s expense that he edged away 
and went home, but vowing to ‘‘get the damned quack!” 

The crowd began to clamor for more music, so Doc entertained 
them with the piano for awhile, and then a nervous and sickly young 
fellow about eighteen years old crowded up near the Doctor and stam¬ 
mered out: ‘‘D-d-doc-t-t-tor, c-c-can y-y-you c-c-cure m-me of s-s-stut- 
t-t-terin’?” 

‘‘Perhaps; come up here. Stand back a little and give me room, 
gentlemen, and I’ll see what I can do for this poor lad. What’s your 
name, my boy?” and Doc laid his hand gently on the lad’s shoulder and 
looked him steadily in the eye. 

‘‘H-h-hen-ry F-f-flem-m-m-ming, s-s-sir.” 

‘‘Now look me steadily in the eye and don’t waver an instant! 
That’s it—steady now.” And then Doc placed his left hand on the 


370 


RED KLOVER. 


boy’s back neck, his right hand on his top-head, and gave three quick 
and peculiar twists, and then said: “You lied to me, boy! you tried 
to deceive me—you don’t stutter at all! Why, you can’t stutter to 
save your life! Do you hear me? I say you cant stutter a bit!" Then 
Doc released his hold on the boy and just laffed at him. 

The boy looked bewildered and said: “I sure can’t stutter now. 
Doctor, for something in my neck and head snapped and I can talk all 
right now!’’ And he grabbed Doc’s hands and tried to cover them with 
kisses, but Doc pushed him away and grabbed up his accordion, and such 
divine music they had never heard. 

The crowd yelled and then looked awed. About fifty of them tried 
to talk to Doc at once, but he held up his hand for silence and said: 
“My friends and nabors, I never overwork myself, and now it is time 
for me to quit and call it a day’s work. I’ll be at my office at about 
1 1 o’clock tomorrow forenoon, and will then be glad to serve the sick 
and crippled ones who care to try me. I’ll now play a march for you 
to march out by, and I hope you’ll all have pleasant dreams.’’ 

Chapter V. 

THE DOCTOR’S SECOND PATIENT. 

The Doctor’s remarkable cure of Henry Fleming’s stuttering had 
spread all over the town before noon the next day, and by the time Doc 
reached his office he sure had a capacity house. The news had reached 
the Inn before he returned to his room that night, and Nexel was so 
bewildered and happy she became almost hysterical. 

The Doctor went directly to his room, and lay awake in the soft 
and whispering moonlight for hours thinking, thinking—and dreaming. 
He was thinking of deep brown hair and purple eyes—eyes that looked 
but could not see. How provoking to fall desperately in love with a 
girl—and not know that she was blind! “No, I must not fail and I 
shall not fail!’’ whispered Doc to his own soul. There was too much at 
stake to even think of such a thing as failure. Thus far the Doctor and 
failure had been strangers, and he had no intention of meeting Monsieur 
Failure now. The thot of it was bitterness unbearable. “I must restore 
those beautiful orbs to their normal function, so she may see my face and 
so our souls may commune and play tag with each other,’’ and Doc 
finally drifted away into Slumber Land with that one idea obsessing his 
subconscious mind. “I think I know where the whole trouble is,” mused 
Doc to himself, “and after I have a talk with her mother. I’ll be ready to 
begin on Nexel.” 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


37i 


Doc was up at 7 o’clock the next morning, and had breakfast with 
Nexel as usual. She intuitively knew just when he would be in the dining¬ 
room, and they met at the same table. When they were thru with their 
breakfasts, Doc asked the girl to go and send her mother to him in the 
parlor, and for her to keep away until he sent for her. “Also, see that no 
one disturbs your mother and me during our conference. After I am thru 
with interviewing your mother, I want you to come to me in the parlor, and 
I’ll then be ready to begin my treatment of your case, Nexel, and remem¬ 
ber, I'm going to restore pour sight. Keep that one thot in your mind to 
the exclusion of everything else.’’ 

“All right, dear; I’m under your orders and shall be a good soldier,’’ 
replied Nexel. Then she tripped out, and soon brought Mrs. Melvin to 
the parlor; she then remained outside to prevent others from intruding on 
the Doctor and her mother. 

The Interview with Mater. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Melvin!’’ greeted the Doctor. 

“Good morning, Doctor. I hope nothing is amiss?’’ responded Mrs. 
Melvin. 

“Everything is quite all right, madam. It was about your dauter I 
wished to question you.” 

“Oh! And do you think you can do anything for the child? The 
greatest oculists and specialists in Frisco have utterly failed and they all 
declare the case is hopeless,” explained the mother despondently. 

“Never mind about the failures of the great specialists, Mrs. Melvin; 
one of the greatest things they have done is to make big mistakes. They 
know a great deal—but most of it isn’t so. The poor simps have a dog¬ 
matic creed that must be upheld at all costs—to their patients. If they 
only had nerve and sense enuff to discard all creeds and let Mistress Truth 
be their only authority, they’d soon get out of the Boob Class and leave 
their feetprints on the shifting sands of Time,” said Doc cheerfully. 

“Well, I hope you are right, Doctor; for it would be the one great 
joy of my life to have my little girl’s sight restored,” sighed the poor 
mother brokenly. 

“Now, Mrs. Melvin, can you recall any very disagreeable experience 
that occurred during the time just preceding Nexel’s birth? Did you have 
trouble with anyone at that time?” continued the Doctor. 

“Why—er—y-e-s, I did, now that your questions recall it,” answered 
Mrs. Melvin. 

“Please state the nature of that disagreeable experience.” 

“Well, it was during the time my first husband was circuit judge of 


372 


RED KLOVER. 


this district. We had a half-breed girl in our employ as house-girl, or 
maid of all work, and after she had been with us about five months I began 
to miss small pieces of jewelry and silver, and at last my expensive fur coat 
disappeared. Judge Vestour decided to trap the girl and get legal evi¬ 
dence against her before we accused or dismissed her; so I employed a maid 
to especially wait on me and to nurse me thru my coming confinement. This 
maid was French and Spanish and spoke both of those languages fluently; 
in fact, she was a very clever detective. This half-breed girl we suspected 
was Indian and Mexican, and had great beauty and cleverness, but pos¬ 
sessed all the bad traits of both her races. I was about two months along 
in my gestation when our detective caught Minene right in the act of steal¬ 
ing my pearl necklace—valued at $3,000. We soon found the coat and 
other articles she had stolen. The Judge and I both felt it our duty to 
hand her over to the police and prosecute her, altho she plead pitifully for 
her release and freedom. ‘No,’ said I; ‘such creatures as you deserve to be 
made examples of, instead of being condoned.’ My husband agreed with 
me, and he had the pleasure of sentencing her to five years at San Quentin. 
After she found her pleadings in vain, she cursed me and said: ‘Ver’ well, 
hard and hauty woman; I place the curse of the Great Evil Spirit, Roaring 
Thunder, on you and yours—to the third generation. Your lil* papoose 
vill be ver’ butiful and talented girl, but ven she is ze fourteen year ol’— 
zip—pouf! her lights go out like ze candle by ze vin’! Zis vill be in your 
min’ all ze time an’ you of’n cry to your Great Spirit to help keep ze curse 
avay, but heem no har your prayers! Ugh! I hate you—to h—! ’ 

“There the officer making the arrest clapped his hand over her mouth 
and prevented further speech and hurried her away. I fainted and lay in a 
semiconscious stupor for six days, and then I gradually recovered; but I 
could not forget the awful creature, and her terrible curse rang in my ears 
and skulked thru my mind during the entire time of my gestation; and when 
my little girl was born, and was beautiful and grew to be so talented, I still 
felt a secret fear and was really afraid the rest of the awful curse would 
materialize. My husband hooted at the idea of there being anything in it, 
and the child was just as likely to be one sex as the other anyway, and as 
for the child being beautiful and talented, that was also perfectly natural. 
After about two years I had begun to believe as my husband did about the 
matter. Nexel was so healthy every way, and so happy and bright, we 
soon dismissed the subject from our minds. When Sheriff Landen returned 
from taking Minene to San Quentin, he told Judge Vestour one day that 
the girl had also placed a curse on him and had sentenced him to get hurt 
on a train and to die of his injuries shortly afterward. Judge Vestour 



DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE . 


373 


never mentioned this to me at the time, for he knew it would worry me and 
revive the old fear of the other curse. When Nexel was nearly five years 
old, her father got hurt in a railway accident and died from his injuries 
four months later. Just before he died he told me of Minene’s curse and 
sentence she sent back to him by the sheriff. This almost drove me crazy 
from fear and dread, for all the old terror and superstition came back in 
spite of all my reasoning to the contrary. Of course we kept all this from 
Nexel, and she does not know of it to this day. On Nexel’s fourteenth 
birthday, and exactly at 12 o’clock noon, her sight left her just like the 
flickering out of a candle—just as Minene had predicted. The child was 
feeling in perfect health and making preparations for her birthday party to 
be held that evening. She came running to me and exclaimed: ‘Oh, 
mamma! I can’t see—I’m blind!’ Then she began to rub her eyes and 
cry. I called Dr. Frazer, our family physician, but he was baffled and 
told us the case was beyond his reach. He advised taking her to an oculist 
in Frisco. We carried her to Frisco and had her examined by six of the 
city’s best eye-men, but they all gave up and admitted they never had seen 
a case like it. They could find nothing wrong with the eyes nor with her 
health. Everything, they said, was normal—and yet she was blind and has 
remained so ever since. After two years I took her to New York and 
Philadelphia and had her under the best eye-men in those places, but it 
simply put them to guessing. What puzzles them all is the fact they can 
find no lesion or disease of the eyes and the girl’s health is perfect. Since 
returning from the East with her, we have given up all hope.” 

“A truly remarkable case, Mrs. Melvin, but I’m just going to slip 
another one over on the orthodox boobs, and then enjoy their antics—and 
denunciation of me as a ‘quack,’ because I shall not employ any drugs nor 
any of their antiquated methods,” laffed Doc easily. 

‘‘Do you mean to tell me that you can restore my child’s sight?” 
exclaimed Mrs. Melvin excitedly. 

‘‘Just that, madam, and you don’t need to get a bit excited either; 
these little things of doing stunts that the so-called ‘ regulars * can’t do are 
just a few of my diversions and help take the monotonous edge off of 
life.” 

‘‘Oh, Doctor! it will surely be a miracle if you succeed.” 

‘‘There are no such things as miracles, Mrs. Melvin; just the opera¬ 
tion of natural laws—that’s all; but by those who do not understand natural 
laws and Nature’s mysteries any unusual act that seems beyond human 
powers is considered miraculous;” and the Doctor laffed pleasantly. “Now, 
Mrs. Melvin, you go out and send Nexel in here, and you or Mestel remain 


RED KLOVER. 


374 

on duty and see that I am not disturbed until I get thru giving Nexel her 
first treatment;” and Doc rose to indicate that the interview was ended. 

Soon Nexel came in timidly, but showed no sign of nervousness. . I 
am ready, Nefton dear, and my faith in you is supreme,” was all she said, 
but it was enuff. 

Doc took her in his arms and strained her to his heart, and said: 
“Those dear words of faith and love shall make you whole. A certain 
subconscious impulse, prenatally imparted, is keeping the blood away from 
your optic thalamus, and that causes your loss of sight. The optic thalamus 
is that part of the base of the brain where the optic nerves terminate, and 
it has the power of seeing. The optic nerves merely gather up light waves 
in which images are dissolved, and throw these pregnant light waves on this 
highly organized brain organ. This part of the brain is well supplied with 
blood-vessels and is thus kept filled with blood. The brain is a wonderful 
dynamo and can only work when full of blood. The optic thalamus in 
some mysterious and unknown way changes or translates these light waves 
that are brought to it into sight or vision; but if the blood is shut out of 
the optic thalamus, it can’t function at all—’tis the same as if it did not 
exist. In your case, dear Nexel, this prenatal impulse is diverting the blood 
around and away from the optic thalamus—and in effect you have no 
optic thalamus. Likewise, if you had a stomach that could not function, 
you would starve to death. In your case the optic thalamus is there all 
right, and the arteries that supply it with vision blood are also on duty, but 
a certain subconscious impulse won’t let this vision blood enter the thalamus. 
Now we must kill that subconscious impulse and plant another one in its 
place, and then the blood will again flow into the thalamus thru that par¬ 
ticular artery, and then your vision will return and you can see— me, dear 
Nexel.” 

“Oh, double joy, dear Nefton!- To see your dear face and to again 
see my mother and Mestel—and all my little friends, the flowers and birds! 
I’ll be the happiest mortal in all the world—and will owe it all to you!” 
exclaimed the blind girl. 

“Now, dear Nexel, that old evil impulse is dying and this sweet new 
impulse is being born, and in one week from today, at 12 o’clock noon, 
the NeImpulse will rule—and your sight will come back as suddenly as 
it left you. Let this one new idea dominate your subconscious mind, and 
the Old Impulse will soon be no more. All day and until you lapse into 
slumber at night keep this New Idea vividly in your mind—both the con¬ 
scious and subconscious, and all will be well. Now, when I place my left 
hand to the back of your head and my right one on your forehead, I’ll 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


375 


silently plant the New Impulse in your subconscious mind, and you just 
relax and yield to the New Impulse. Let your soul be ruled by mp mind 
and will. Now, ready!” 

Then for five minutes the Doctor clasped Nexel’s head as above 
described, and sent a silent wireless from his mind into and thru her sub¬ 
conscious mind. She readily succumbed to hypnosis, and he easily put her 
in a cataleptic state and thus held her for thirty minutes. Then he re¬ 
leased her and held her in his arms a few minutes, until she was fully 
recovered and her equilibrium restored. 

‘‘Oh, Nefton! a sweet and stirring music is pulsating thru my mind, 
and I feel a great happiness coming on perfumed wings!” cried Nexei 
joyfully. 

‘‘Everything will be ail right, dear love, and a week from today you 
will see. Again tonight about 9:30, and every night at the same hour, I’ll 
give you another treatment until I have given you seven treatments. Keep 
everything to yourself, dear Nexei—not a word of these treatments to 
anyone. I want it all to come as a complete surprise to the town,” said 
the Doctor. 

‘‘Your orders are my law and gospel, dear Nefton;” and Nexei laid 
her pretty white hand in the Doctor’s strong one and just sighed with happi¬ 
ness—a happiness that words would only profane and bungle. 

Chapter VI. 

A FLOOD OF PATIENTS.—TROUBLE BREWING. 

After finishing Nexel’s treatment, Doc went by the hork and played 
with Rex awhile, and then went by the postoffice and got a big batch of 
mail. He returned to the Inn with his mail and went directly to his room 
and read the letters and glanced thru the papers. Then he answered some 
important letters, and then went out on the veranda and with Nexel’s guitar 
he amused himself and the birds until dinner was ready. He dined with 
Nexei and Mestel, and then repaired to his office. A big crowd was 
waiting for him and he had plenty of material to work on. Among the 
afflicted were three stuttering cases. Doc disposed of them in a hurry, 
and each one was cured and talked easily. Then a case of paralysis was 
restored like magic; then two cases of cross-eyes were straightened. Next 
a cancer case presented himself, but was declined. Then two cases of 
rheumatism were examined and accepted for treatment, and were told to 
call the next afternoon and he would have their instructions ready for them. 
One of the local doctors then asked if he could cure consumption. 

‘‘It depends on the condition and age of the patient and how far the 


376 RED KLOVER. 

disease is advanced,” returned Doc pleasantly. ‘‘Where is the patient? 

“She cannot be brought here—is bedridden; so it will be necessary 
for you to go to her home?” announced Dr. Brown. “She lives about 
three miles out, and I should be pleased to ride out there with you this 
evening, Doctor.” 

“Very well, Dr. Brown; I’ll close here at 4 o’clock this evening, and 
if you will have your horse here at that time, I’ll ride out with you on 
Rex.” 

“I’ll be here and ready. Dr. Nobody, and I know you’ll enjoy the 
ride down the valley.” 

“That afternoon Doc accepted two cases of epilepsy, a case of dia¬ 
betes, two cases of asthma, and stopped three cases of headache; then a 
bad case of eczema and an old sore of ten years’ running came up. Then 
ten minutes of music, and the two doctors cantered away toward the west. 
Dr. Brown had a good mount, but his nag was a Frisco on the Bolivar 
Branch when compared to Doc’s big Yellow Boy. The two men chatted 
pleasantly on the trip and were soon at the home of Mr. Robert Humley, 
a wealthy ranchman and mine-owner. 

Doc proceeded to examine Mrs. Humley at once, as he was in a 
hurry to get back to the hotel. He found her very nervous and her liver 
and kidneys clogged. The lung involvement was only a result of the other 
ailments, but had been diagnosed wrongly by the old school men. Doc 
just laffed when his patient tried to impress him with the seriousness of her 
condition; however, he finally got her to promise to give up all the old 
ideas about her case and to be guided entirely by him. Inside of a week 
the woman and her husband were boosting the Doctor, and in about three 
months he had her well. 

This converted Dr. Brown and he at once became a disciple of Dr. 
Nobody’s. Dr. Glum and Dr. Fuller still held back and denounced Dr. 
Nobody as a charlatan and a lunatic, and several of the ministers declared 
him to be a witch. Dr. Glum and Dr. Fuller saw their practices dis¬ 
appearing and wanted revenge. They were sure sore at Dr. Nobody, but 
did not know how to get rid of him. They must hatch us some scheme 
for getting rid of him, or they would have to seek other pastures—where 
the grass was greener. 

“Why, the damned lunatic will soon have all the practice in the town 
and vicinity if we don’t put a crimp in his plans!” exclaimed Dr. Glum 
to his colleague. Dr. Fuller, that night as the two walked home together 
after witnessing the performance at Dr. Nobody’s office. 

“Not a bit of room for two opinions on that subject,” returned Dr. 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE . 


377 


Fuller, with a chuckle that sounded like the death rattle. 

“Right you are,” continued Glum. “I’ll tell you what we had better 
do—you think of some plan tonight, and I’ll do the same, and you meet 
me at my office at 9 o’clock tomorrow forenoon and we will compare 
notes.’’ 

“A very good idea, Doctor. Good night.’’ 

“Pleasant dreams to you, Doctor, and a nightmare to Nobody.’’ 

Dr. Nobody did some more wonderful work at his office that night 
after returning from the country; then he went home to the Inn and gave 
Nexel her treatment. Then they both enjoyed an hour of song and music 
together, and Doc went to bed with a head full of very roseate dreams. 
The other two doctors had everything but pleasant dreams. 

The next forenoon the two worthies met as agreed upon. Glum was 
in favor of burning Dr. Nobody’s place and hiring some rowdies to drive 
him from town astride of a rail. Glum not only wanted to get rid of him, 
but desired to humiliate his opponent. Dr. Fuller allowed that would be 
a little too raw. He thought a charge of “insanity’’ might be able to do 
the trick for them. “It will be an easy matter to get plenty of physicians 
to testify that the man is demented, and his outlandish methods of conduct¬ 
ing his practice, and his own shingle, would go a long way with a jury— 
especially if we had a few physicians on the jury.’’ 

“Good!’’ joyfully exclaimed Dr. Glum. “You are one of the county 
commissioners anyway, and we could easily get another man that would be 
friendly toward us,’’ laffed the envious doctor. Then the two rascals con¬ 
sulted with the county officials, and got enuff encouragement to decide 
them to bring an “insanity’’ charge against Dr. Nobody. 

Little did Dr. Nobody dream of what a storm was brewing for his 
benefit. He arose late the next morning, and after a short canter on Rex, 
in order to exercise the animal, he lazily strolled over to his office. An 
immense concourse of expectant people were on hand to greet him, and 
among them was about every kind of ailment from ingrown toenails and 
toothache to paralysis and intoxication. 

Chapter VII. 

A MALINGERER. 

As soon as Doc opened up, a big burly and brutal-looking thug 
pushed his way in and ruthlessly shoved a number of women out of his 
way and claimed to be “first.’’ 

“Doctor, I have splitting headaches and epileptic fits and at times go 
blind for a spell,’’ he declared frantically. 


378 


RED KLOVER. 


“You look like a bad case!” laffed Doc as he reached for the man’s 
pulse and asked to see his tongue. 

“I am, Doctor, and I hope you can cure me. I can get the money 
to pay you,” he continued with eagerness. He had overdone it—was a 
poor actor, and Doc was “next” instantly. He knew the fellow had been 
hired by the other doctors to play sick in order to catch him off his guard. 

“Oh, yes, my friend, I can easily cure you. All you need is a brisk 
walk about five miles in the country—and never come back. You might 
also go by Dr. Glum’s office and tell the skunk I can handle all such cases 
he can send me.” Then he turned to his auditors and said easily: “My 
good people, there is nothing wrong with that big loafer and crook except 
laziness, meanness, and an appetite for rum. He was hired by Dr. Glum 
•and his friends to come here and pretend sickness in order to catch me 
napping, but it didn’t take me long to size him up, as you saw.” 

The crowd began to look for the big stiff, but he had already com¬ 
menced that five-mile walk—and was safely out of reach. 

This little incident gave the people a new insight into the real char¬ 
acter of their local doctors, and only increased their liking for Dr. Nobody. 
Doc was making good in every case he accepted and his common-sense 
methods were making history in the Sacramento Valley. People from 
nearby towns began coming in to see “the new doctor,” as they designated 
Doc. And it made no difference to Doc how poor a patient might be— 
if they had no money and could not work, he gave his services free. One 
poor woman lived away out in a little hut on the outskirts of the town, and 
when she heard of Doc’s good work, she wrote him the following letter: 

“Bendville, California, October 6, 188—. 

“Dear Doctor —I am a hopeless cripple and am also blind. I got 
injured in a railway wreck six years ago and am blind and paralyzed as a 
result. I am also penniless and am dependent on the charity of my nabors 
and a small pension the county pays me. I had some means when I got 
hurt, but a rascally real-estate agent swindled me out of it, and the courts 
upheld him of course. I used to teach music and am so fond of music I 
hope to have the pleasure of hearing you play some time. I know you can’t 
do anything for my case, but I should so much like to hear your wonderful 
music. I wish you every success, Doctor, for I realize what good work 
you are doing. Sincerely, 

“Miss Bevna Slade.” 

“Some letter!” mused Doc to himself after reading it a second time. 
The case was so pathetic it touched Doc’s tender spot (his soul), and he 
said: “I’ll just take my guitar and ride out there some afternoon and try 


DR. NOBODY FEOM NOWHERE . 


379 


to cheer the poor soul with music. Her life must indeed be a sad and 
lonely one—and a music teacher, too! She writes as tho the flowers had 
not all perished from her soul yet. Rex needs some exercise and I always 
feel better after helping my fellow-men. She shall surely hear some of my 
music anyway, and I have a curiosity to hear her story.” 

The next afternoon Doc slung his guitar over the horn of his saddle, 
and soon he and his beloved Rex were flying towards the suburbs to visit 
Bevna Slade. Doc soon found her cabin—a modest little affair, but 
covered with vines and flowers. ‘‘She’s sure a woman of refinement and 
culture, or she would not regard the tangled vines and flowers so highly,” 
soliloquized Doc to himself and Rex. 

The cabin was built partly with logs and partly with stone. It had a 
small porch and faced the east, and Bevna always sat out there in the 
afternoons and whiled away the time playing her guitar and accordion. 
She was a master on both instruments, and also played the piano, organ, 
and violin. She was sitting out on her porch and softly playing and sing¬ 
ing to herself and her little bird friends when the Doctor arrived at about 
4 p. m. She heard the hoof-beats of Rex and at once ceased her playing 
and listened intently. 

‘‘Good evening, Miss Slade,” greeted the Doctor pleasantly. ‘‘I’m 
Dr. Nobody, and have called in response to your letter,” continued Doc, 
with a voice full of soul-elements that at once caused Bevna to like him. 

“I’m delighted to meet you, Doctor. Please dismount and take that 
chair there. It was so good of you to come away out here to see me—■ 
when you know I have no means of paying you;” and she extended a white 
and faded hand that still retained traces of beauty and refinement. 

Doc grasped her hand and gave her a greeting that at once assured 
her that he was not in the Dollar Class. “Never mind about not being able 
to pay me with money—there are higher and better rewards than dollars, 
my poor woman,” he said. “I came because I wanted to see you and 
because you are interested in music, flowers, and the other things worth 
while. If I could find no better reward than just money, I would go and 
jump in the river and drown myself.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re not mercenary. Doctor f and it is a pleasure 
to hear your voice and know that you are actuated by the noblest ideals. 
The nabors have brought me the most wonderful tales about you and your 
powers to help the sick and crippled. I could not help writing you, altho 
I know my case is beyond all human help,” and Miss Slade sighed re¬ 
signedly. 

“Anyway, cheer up and never let the Star of Hope set forever. The 


38 o 


RED KLOFER. 


fact that the so-called ‘regulars’ have failed to help you signifies little or 
nothing. Your eyes look all right and I’m glad there is no mechanical 
injury to the eyeballs themselves. The trouble is evidently further back 
and may be caused by some of the wires (nerves) being crossed; and 
the paralysis may also be due to pressure on a nerve somewhere. * I’ll 
examine you and we’ll soon see.” 

‘‘You may be right, Doctor, for my eyes are not injured and I never 
have any pain in them; and neither is there any pain in the lower part of 
my body, and I can feel just the same as ever, but I have little use of my 
limbs and the lower part of my body. My appetite is excellent, my lungs 
and heart are almost normal, and my mind seems the same as ever. My 
musical powers seem greatly enhanced. If I could only walk and see again. 
I’d be so happy!” and her face took on an increased color and she was 
quite excited. 

‘‘You spoke about being swindled out of your property by a real- 
estate shark—please tell me about that,” asked Doc, with interest in the 
case. 

‘‘Very well; if it won’t bore you, Doctor, I shall be pleased to relate 
it, altho I can’t see that it will help matters any to tell you about it.” 

‘‘Perhaps it may help a great deal; anyway, it won’t do any harm 
to tell me about it,” said the Doctor. 

‘‘When I graduated from the Conservatory of Music in Cincinnati,” 
said Miss Slade, ‘‘I was just twenty-two years old. My father then lived 
on a big farm and ranch up the valley about ten miles. He had 640 
acres of good land and it was well improved. Shortly after my return 
from the East he bought a big house and two lots in town here, so we 
could move in and I could teach music. Father’s health was failing rapidly 
after mother died, and he thot he could be doctored better if he lived 
in town. For a period of six years he did little else than doctor, but got 
no better; in fact, he gradually grew worse and died. About a year be¬ 
fore he died he sold the farm in order to get money for the doctors and 
for us to live on and to keep Elveen in school. She was my younger 
sister. After father died I settled up his debts and affairs and had very 
little left—not enuff to keep sister in college two more years; so I went 
to teaching music, and soon had plenty to do. I was so happy to know 
that I could now make enuff to live on and keep Elveen in school. I soon 
had calls to come and teach classes in nearby towns, and on one of these 
trips I got caught in a train wreck, and that left me as you now see me. 
I had but little saved up and there was little left from father’s farm, etc. 
The doctors soon got what little I had saved up for Elveen’s education, 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


381 


and I had to have means for my own living; so, after considerable hard 
thinking and many heartaches, I decided to mortgage our house and lots 
here in town. It was my last resort to raise money in order to enable 
sister to complete her education, etc. I applied to Jobert Fossert, of this 
place, for a loan of $600 on the house and two lots. He said he would 
let me have it at 6 per cent interest. He drew up the papers and brot 
them to me for my signature. I happened to be alone in the house at the 
time and signed the papers, and he gave me the money then and there. 
My nurse and housekeeper had gone to town, and I afterward learned 
that the rascal waited till I was alone to have me sign the papers. About 
a month afterward I learned that it was a deed I had signed, instead of 
a mortgage for $600. The deed conveyed the house and two lots, valued 
at $8,000, to him. The deed stated that I had received $6,000 cash 
for the property. I brot suit to recover the property, but, as I had no 
witnesses, it was his word against mine, and as I admitted signing the 
papers, the court decided in his favor.” 

‘‘The infernal scoundrel!” exploded Doc. ‘‘Where is the skunk 
now?” 

‘‘About three years ago he moved to S-, and I believe he is 

there yet. If I could only see to shoot, he wouldn’t be living any place 
longer than it would take me to find the coyote!” and she looked like an 
avenging Nemesis. 

‘‘Calm yourself, please. And now I’ll make an examination and see 
if I can’t find the trouble. Ah! here it is—the fifth cervical vertebra is 
slightly dislocated, and that causes the whole trouble. Now get control 
of yourself while I give the vertebrae a sudden twist. There! Now do 
you feel like getting up?” 

‘‘Oh, Doctor! I can see! Yes, yes, I think I—can—can get up. 
Oh, glory. Doctor! I can stand—see! see! Oh, thank Heaven for 
sending you to me!” and she staggered to her feet and slowly walked 
about the. room. Her legs were wasted and very weak from disuse for so 
long, but she could manage to stand and walk a little. ‘‘Oh, Doctor 
Nobody! how funny everything looks—how beautiful everything is! Oh, 
how happy I am! Oh, Doctor! will I stay this way, or will I relapse 
into my blind and helpless condition?” 

‘‘Calm yourself and relax, or you may have a relapse—temporarily;” 
and he laid his hand gently on her head and clasped the other hand on her 
left hand and for about a minute sent magnetic currents over her nerves. 
‘‘There! Now if you will be guided entirely by me, you’ll be all right in 
a few days. Now I’ll play for you awhile and you rest and relax.” Then 



382 


RED KLOVER. 


Doc tuned up his guitar and played and sang to her for about forty 
minutes. 

“Oh, Doctor! such divine music, and how I thank you for it and 
for restoring me to health! I’ll work my fingers off to pay you.” 

“Oh, no, you won’t, for you don’t owe me a cent. This is one of 
the ways I have of keeping on good terms with my soul. Now listen to 
what I say, for I must be getting back to the hotel: Don’t try to use your 
eyes and limbs too much at first. Just go to bed now and relax and 
dream. Don’t eat anything tonight, and in the morning I’ll bring a nurse 
out here, and you just do as she tells you to do. She will simply be 
carrying out mp orders. Don’t say anything to the nabors till I give you 
permission to. That’s all. Good-night and rosy dreams.” 

“And pou’/Z be about the only dreams I’ll have—but that will be 
enuff!” she called after him as he hurried out to the street and vaulted in 
the saddle and was gone. 

The Doctor got back to the hotel just in time to enjoy his supper 
with Nexel and Mestel; then he went in the parlor and sang and played 
with Nexel for about an hour. Then he gave her a treatment and, after 
smoking one cigar, went to bed. Early next morning he got a good nurse. 
Miss Nildred Nassen, and got the hork-keeper to drive her out to the 
Slade cabin. Then he played with Rex awhile, and went down to his 
office to find a larger crowd than ever. He saw that the crowd was 
unduly excited, and realized that a storm was brewing. 

“Say, Doc, I want to talk to you in private a minute,” said Bob 
Pelton, a big auctioneer. 

“Very well, brother; step back this way, please. Well, what’s 
on your mind, my man?” 

“Why, Doc, some of the coyotes of this dirty, lousy burg are putting 
up a damnable job on you, and I thot you ought to know of it.” 

“Well, spill the beans and let’s hear what kind of a plot it is;” and 
Doc laffed good-naturedly and lighted a fresh weed. 

“It’s this way: Doc Glum and some of his renegade Apaches are 
preparing to prefer a charge of insanity against you and have you put in a 
bug-house—in order to get you out of their way.” 

“Some scheme, I’ll admit; but why didn’t they trump up some 
awful crime and charge me with it?” 

“Why, they knew you could easily give bond, but with a charge of 
insanity you can’t be admitted to bond at all.” 

“Well, I’ll be tetotally amalgated!” exclaimed Doc. “However, 
the skunks will have to give me a hearing, and I assure you there’ll be a 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


383 

performance worth seeing,” laffed Doc good-naturedly. ‘‘Bob, I want 
you and several hundred of my friends who are in favor of fair play and 
a square deal to be on hand when the renegades try to put over their 
little game on me, and I promise you all a lively time;” and Doc grasped 
Bob s outstretched hand and gave it a shake that was a whole dictionary. 

‘‘Sure thing, Doc. The boys are just itching to help clean up that 
gang of crooks that have been running this town and county so long; and 
we intend to make a clean sweep of the bunch, too!” exclaimed Bob en¬ 
thusiastically. 

‘‘Yes, I think it is time the town and county were rid of such rub¬ 
bish, and with your help I’ll take the initiative and show them exactly 
where to step off,” and Doc laffed another laff that had internal teeth 
a mile long. 

Bob soon had his men well organized and properly armed, but it 
was all so carefully and adroitly arranged that the crooks never had an 
inkling of it. 

The remainder of the day was spent in treating patients and playing 
for them. About 4 o’clock Doc sent a note out to Miss Slade and her 
nurse by Sierra Pete, and told the nurse to bring Miss Slade to the Inn, 
so he could attend to her without the loss of so much time. ‘‘Never mind 
about her protests and assertions that she has no means to live at the hotel, 
etc., for I have arranged for all those minor details, and my orders are im¬ 
perative,” wrote Doc to Nildred Nassen, the nurse. That settled it, and 
Miss Bevna Slade was soon domiciled in a beautiful room at the Inn, 
where she could watch the river flow and dream. With a proper diet, 
hot baths, massage, music, and the financial strain removed from the poor 
girl’s sensitive mind, it was astonishing how rapidly she regained her nor¬ 
mal condition. In a few weeks she could go about town, and in three 
months she resumed her music-teaching, and all the birds in the world 
sang for her again—thanks for a real doctor who knew his business. 
Every day right after dinner Doc would have Bevna come in the parlor 
with her nurse, and then Doc, Nexel, and Bevna would have a music 
feast for about an hour; and again at night the three of them would just 
revel in their divine pastime. Then Doc would give Bevna her treatment 
and send her to her room with Nildred, her nurse and companion. Then 
he would treat Nexel and—retire to sleep and dream. Thus the days 
passed pleasantly away. 

The story of Miss Slade’s wonderful cure at the hands of Dr. Nobody 
soon spread beyond the limits of Bendville and the county. Among the 
many outside patients who sought the Doctor’s services was one coyote 


3 84 


RED KLOVER. 


that caused Doc’s eyes to do a Seminole war-dance. It came from the 
erstwhile real-estate agent —Jobert Fossert. He wrote that he was para¬ 
lysed and wanted Doc to come and see him at once. 

“I’m a rich man,” he wrote, “and money is no object if I can regain 
my health. I’m inclosing one hundred dollars by check to pay your ex¬ 
penses in coming to see me, and if you can help me, you may name your 
own figure; but please come at once. 

“Yours for health, JOBERT FOSSERT.” 

For some reason or other this letter caused a million birds to sing 
grand opera in Doc’s soul. “The eternal years are mine,’’ quoted Doc 
to himself. “Here, Driftwood, is a dollar; run over to the stopo (rail¬ 
way station) and find out all about the time of the trains going and re¬ 
turning to S-.’’ 

“I’m off. Doc; anything I can do for you will be a pleasure,” 
shouted Driftwood, the Melvin Inn porter and all-around factotum. 

Doc left that afternoon at 2:06 for the little town of S-, about 

forty miles distant. 

Chapter VIII. 

CURING A SKUNK AND TREATING CROOKS AND 
THUGS. 

At 4:20 Doc arrived in the town of S-, and soon learned where 

Jobert Fossert lived. As it was only about six blocks from the stopo. 
Doc decided to walk. He found a fairy dream place on a sloping hill 
and overlooking the winding river. It stood back in about the center of 
a twenty-acre tract of land that was nearly all in orchard and vineyard— 
and all around the imposing mansion were flowers everywhere. “Some¬ 
body here certainly has good taste,” mused Doc to himself as he leisurely 
walked up the wide graveled walk to the big house. He used the old- 
fashioned knocker, and was soon admitted by a very petite and pretty 
French maid—Mile. Minet Valdeau. 

“Oin, msieur, theese ees var M’sieur Fossert leeves;” and she con¬ 
ducted him to a drawing-room that breathed quiet elegance in every piece 
of furniture and all its appointments were rich and correct—but decidedly 
French. 

“Just say to M’sieur Fossert that Dr. Nobody has arrived,” said 
Doc to the maid before he seated himself. 

Minet was back almost immediately, and said: “ M’sieur le Docteur 
—theese vay, please;” and Doc was ushered into the rich and elegant 
sitting-room where Jobert Fossert sat in the afternoons and when he was 





DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


385 


'cired of the bed. 

“Welcome, Doctor. It was so good of you to come at once. Take 
the seat here, please,’’ said Fossert. “You may retire now, Minet; but be 
ready to respond if I ring for you.’’ 

“Out, m'sieur and with a smart courtesy the maid flowed out of 
the room, but gave the Doctor a look that said plainly, “I like you, 
M’sieur le Docteur .” 

“How long have you been this way, Mr. Fossert?’’ asked Doc, 
after taking his pulse and looking at his tongue. 

“Just two years, and it came on suddenly, too. I was feeling all 
right, and was just climbing in my carriage to go to town, when my whole 
right side went dead and I crumpled up in a heap and sank to the ground. 
I was carried back into the house and one of the local physicians was sum¬ 
moned. He examined me, but seemed puzzled about the case, and after 
trying one dope and another on me for about four months, I sent to Frisco 
for one of the best specialists the State affords. He came and looked me 
over, left some more dope, sent me a bill for $750—and that was all;’’ 
and Fossert sighed disgustedly. 

“Some doctors!’’ was all that Doc had to say; but he uttered it 
so eloquently that was quite enuff. “M’sieur Fossert, I can easily restore 
you to health, and will do so only on certain conditions;’’ and Doc gave 
him a look that was a whole library. i 

“Never mind about the conditions. Doctor; if you can help me, just 
get busy and do so, and you may name your price.’’ 

“Very well, m’sieur; but, as I dislike to treat skunks, you’ll have 
to do something to get out of the Coyote Class first;’’ and Doc shot him 
a look that would smoke the Huns out of No Man’s Land. 

“Why—er— what do you m-mean, Doctor?’’ and a look of alarm 
crept into his rascally face that showed him up in all his saffron hues, 

“I mean this, Jobert Fossert: A man who will take advantage 

of a blind girl and rob her like you did poor little Bevna Slade isn’t fit 

to live at all, and ought to be shot on sight; but if you are willing to make 
complete restitution and live a clean and square life from now on. I’ll take 
your case and restore you to health. The first thing for you to do is to 

write out a check for Bevna Slade and thus return to her the full amount 

of her property. That house and the two lots were worth $8,000, and 
you let her have $600. That leaves $7,400 due the girl, and you must 
add in 6 per cent interest for four years—making a total of $9,176. My 
bill will be an even $10,000, and must be paid in advance; so, m’sieur, 
if you want me to put you back on the map again, get busy with your 


386. 


RED KLOVER. 


check-book;” and Doc tossed him another look that caused him to reach 
for his gas-mask and tremble. 

‘‘Your terms are outrageous. Doctor!” and he tried to look offended. 

‘‘Very well, m’sieur—I bid you adieu;” and Doc started for the 

door. 

‘‘Stop, Doctor! for Heaven’s sake stay! I’ll do as you wish.” 
Then he rang for Minet. ‘‘Bring me my check-book and writing ma¬ 
terials, Minet.” 

“Oui m sieur;” and she was gone like a shadow, and soon returned 
with the bank-book, pen, and ink. 

Fossert filled out a check for Miss Bevna Slade for $9,176, and 
one for Dr. Nobody for $10,000. 

‘‘It is now half-past five and I won’t be able to cash these till to¬ 
morrow; so I’ll come back up here and treat you soon as I cash the checks 
tomorrow forenoon. If the checks are all right, I’ll soon have you on your 
feet again; and if you ever pull off another stunt like robbing a blind girl, 
I’ll strangle you with my own hands!” and Doc gave him another look 
that would make a Robert-cat look like a Sunday-school jack-rabbit. 

Then Doc went to the hotel and enjoyed a good supper, smoked 
an hour out in the moonlight, and then went to bed a* very happy man; 
for now he would be able to complete Bevna’s happiness and start her 
once more on her chosen career with her mind only burdened with a hor¬ 
rible memory—a nightmare that time would gradually shadow into dim 
and fading oblivion. 

Doc was at the bank the next morning soon after it opened, and 
cashed the checks; then he walked out to the Fossert mansion, and in 
about an hour had that very much frightened man on his feet, walking. 
Fossert’s joy was boundless, and he had promised both himself and Dr. 
Nobody that he would be a real, sure-enuff man from now on. 

“Doctor,” he said, “you have no idea how glad I am to right the 
great wrong I did that poor girl. The thot of it has always haunted me, 
and I often think it brought on a mental and nervous condition that caused 
my paralysis.” 

“You are right,” responded the Doctor; “it was a strong contribut¬ 
ing factor, and your wrong diet and other errors in living did the rest. 
Now that the mental load is removed and a few adjustments made in the 
vertebra, you’ll soon be entirely well again—if you follow my instructions 
about your regimen, etc. I want a written report from you in thirty days, 
and if you are not making satisfactory improvement, I’ll pay you another 
visit. Now I must say adios, senor , and I feel sure of your physical and 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


387 


mental regeneration .” 

‘‘Adios, Doctor—and may Heaven bless you!” 

Doc caught the noon train back to Bendville, and Bob Pelton and 
Sierra Pete were at the stopo to meet him. 

‘‘Doc, Hell’s about ready to bust loose, and Big Best has been 
hanging around in the vicinity of your office most of the forenoon. We 
think they have the game all primed and ready and are just waitin’ for 
your return,” was the greeting Doc received. 

‘‘Very well, boys; you have our friends on hand, and when I give 
you the signal, jump in, and we’ll make a clean sweep of that gang of 
legal and official crooks. I have no intention of surrendering to them on 
any of their cooked-up charges. They know they can’t make any of their 
fake charges stick, but if they once get me unarmed and in their clutches, 
one of those crooked doctors would shoot a needle under my skin, ‘to 
quiet me,’ of course, and—well, the undertaker would finish the job. I 
know what breed of coyotes they are and intend to fight them like a man. 
Just you boys stand by me, and don’t take a hand unless more than two 
of the coyotes attack me at the same time. I can take care of any two 
of the yellow polecats at a time;” and Doc’s yellow-hazel eyes emitted 
sparks of gleaming fire. 

‘‘All right, Doc; we’ll be on hand to take care of the overflow if 
there should be any.” 

Doc soon reached his office, and it seemed that most of the town 
were in waiting—to see the fun, for it had leaked out that the Doctor 
was to be pinched by the sheriff—Big Best. ‘‘Howdy, friends and na- 
bors?” was Doc’s greeting to them. He opened his door and the room 
was soon crowded with patients and sightseers. Doc seated himself at the 
piano and played ‘‘The Marseillaise” with a depth of feeling and a power 
of defiance seldom heard. Then he asked who was first on the list of 
patients. 

Dr. Glum shouted out this mild one: ‘‘Say, Mr. Quack, can you cure 
a case of insanity—one of long standing, I mean?” 

‘‘Just be patient, Mr. Loony, and I’ll get around to your case after 
I finish with the cases that are worth saving,” answered Doc. This little 
load of birdshot made the rascal howl like an Oklahoma sand-storm, and 
brot a big laff from the audience. 

Then Dr. Glum whispered in the sheriff’s ear, and Big Best stepped 
forward and said in a loud and blustering way: ‘‘I think it’s about time 
I took a hand in this crazy game—Dr. Nobody, I have a warrant for 
your arrest on a charge of being insane.” 


388 


RED KLOVER. 


“Who swore out the warrant, Mr. Sheriff?’’ asked Doc. 

“Why—er—Dr. Glum and Dr. Fuller.’’ 

“Who gave you the warrant and told you to serve it?’’ 

“The county attorney. So you see it is all legal and straight/’ 

“Yes; but the crooks who swore it out and the other idiots concerned 
in the outrage are not straight, and I refuse to recognize its validity or to 
go with you.’’ 

Then the two rascally doctors, the prosecuting attorney, and five 
other members of their gang began to close in on Doc. 

“Wait a minute, gentlemen; I think I can convince you crooks that 
you are the ones who have bats in your lofts. Stand back there, all of 
you, and let’s have a little room,’’ Doc called out. “Dr. Glum, n >/ry 
have you disgraced yourself and your profession by making such a ridic¬ 
ulous charge against a brother physician?” 

“Because I think you are bug-house and the community ought to be 
protected against such a dangerous lunatic,” replied Glum. 

“Can you find anyone in this community that has been injured by 

me?” 

“Of course he can’t, the dirty liar!” shouted several hundred at the 
same time. 

“As a matter of fact, Dr. Glum, I am daily curing patients that 
you and your ignorant ilk have humbugged and robbed for years, and 
you are envious because your meal-tickets are slipping away from you.” 

Here about fifty of the cases Doc had cured or greatly helped 
wanted to assault Dr. Glum and his dirty pals, but Dr. Nobody asked them 
to restrain themselves. 

“Dr. Glum, you and I are about the same age and weight, and Dr. 
Fuller is about my age, but considerable heavier; now I propose to fight 
both of you cowards at the same time—are you ready?” challenged Doc. 

Dr. Glum reached for his hip-pocket and Dr. Fuller put his hand 
toward his coat-pocket, but neither hand landed. Bob Pel ton grabbed 
Glum’s hand just in time to prevent the skunk from using a gun, and Sierra 
Pete and Driftwood grabbed Fuller just as the coyote was reaching for 
a bottle of nitric acid to throw in Dr. Nobody’s face. 

“So that is the way you fight, you yellow coyotes!” cried Doc. 

Then Big Best started to pull his gat and take Doc in tow, but he 
was grabbed by several hands and disarmed. 

“Boys, hang onto those coyotes, and let’s all get out here on the 
vacant lot back of this building and form a ring. I want to see if there 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE . 389 

is a drop of game blood in these yellow birds;” and Doc let out a crow 
that would make any gamecock green with envy. 

A ring was soon formed, and the two doctors, the sheriff, the prose¬ 
cuting attorney, the crooked judge that helped Jobert Fossert rob Bevna 
Slade, and three other members of the crooked gang that had been run¬ 
ning and robbing the county for many years were led forth and detained 
so they could not insert their tails between their hind legs and sneak away. 

Then Doc skimmed off his coat and vest and put on a pair of thin 
leather gloves, and stepped into the ring and said: ‘‘Gentlemen and ladies, 
the County Medical Society is now in session, and the first stunt on the 
program is to ascertain whether Drs. Glum and Fuller have any red 
corpuscles in their blood. Gentlemen, are you ready?” and he gave the 
two yellow coyotes a look that congealed their blood. 

‘‘I don’t want to fight a lunatic!” exclaimed Dr. Glum as he steadily 
changed to white. 

‘‘Well, gentlemen. I’m not so particular about the kind of germs I 
combat, and as I have taken the precaution to put on gloves in order to pro¬ 
tect my hands from infection, I am now ready to begin operations.” 

With this Doc made a jump for Glum something like a bob-cat 
jumps for a hound dog that is trying to come up the tree after it. Glum 
dodged to the best of his ability, but his inferior maxillary busted Doc an 
awful one right on Doc’s right fist, and then he went down on his head 
and shoulders to keep from hurting Doc’s fist. Fuller tried to break thru 
the crowd to avoid hurting Doc, but some of the boys who wanted to see 
a real fight shoved the cur back in the ring and he fell heavily against 
Doc. Doc just jabbed his left elbow in Fuller’s tummy, and he doubled 
up like a jack-knife and went down to try and find his pal—the valiant 
Glum. They made a pitiable sight, and the crowd continued to yell and 
hoot at them to get up and fight like men, but fight was never in them— 
they only had chicken and rabbit blood. Doc reached down and grabbed 
each one by his neck and the way he bumped their heads together for 
about three minutes was a sure-enuff treat for the audience. When he 
got thru with them there wasn’t a sound place on their scalps or faces 
and their noses and mouths were bleeding freely. Then he slammed the 
yellow snakes down in one corner and told them to remain there till the 
show was over. 

‘‘Now, boys, let’s have two more of the yellow birds—the sheriff 
and the prosecuting attorney will do for this course!” sang out Doc. 
‘‘Come on, Big Best—you big stiff! And you, you jackleg shyster!” 

Big Best started to do some lively foot-work around the ring, but 


390 


RED KLOVER. 


Doc made one jump and caught him on the jaw with a vicious uppercut 
and a left-swing on the ear almost sumultaneously. This was all the exer¬ 
cise Big Best needed—so he just went over on the ground and softly 
groaned. The legal light of the county tried desperately to land a light 
tap on Doc’s face, but a stiff right punch in the solar plexus and a left 
jab in his right eye caused the legal light of the county to see things in a 
different light. He had no particular business down on the grass, but he 
wanted to see how Big Best was coming along in his grassy dreams. Doc 
was so disgusted that he picked them up and bumped their heads together 
like he had the two doctors’; then he tossed them over on the two medical 
lights and politely invited the judge and a banker to come forward and 
try for the blue ribbon. They turned deathly white and absolutely re¬ 
fused to hurt Doc by fighting him. Doc collared them both and jolted 
their heads together until they saw all the stars and planets the Designer 
of the Universe ever made. Then, to finish the entertainment, he laid the 
two doctors side by side and about 2 feet apart, and then he laid the 
sheriff and prosecutor across them, and on top of them he piled the judge 
and banker crosswise—like a pile of railway ties. Then he got up on top 
of the six human logs and made a little speech to the effect that such 
crooks were a disgrace and detriment to any community, and should be 
given a week to wind up their affairs and leave the town and county. 

The crowd unanimously agreed to these sentiments, and the six yel¬ 
low coyotes, with seven others of their band of assassins, were given one 
week to wind up their affairs and breeze away while the atmosphere was 
good. Some of them considered a week a very liberal allowance of time, 
and blew away the next day. 

“Now, my good friends and decent fellow-citizens,’’ said Doc in 
conclusion, “if you will come into my den, I will play a little for you, 
and then I must get at my work of helping the sick and lame.’’ 

This time Doc played the banjo and sang two songs for them. 
Then until 5 p. m. he did his usual wonderful work with his patients. 
Then he locked up and placed a secret guard to watch his office all night, 
for fear some of the defeated renegades might burn him out. He then 
went direct to the hotel and paid Bevna Slade a visit. 

“Oh, Doctor!’’ cried Miss Slade, “I am so glad to see you and 
know that you are not hurt! Driftwood and Sing Woo brought us the * 
news of the fight, and oh, Doctor Nobody, but we are all so proud of 
you! I just feel almost entirely well now that I know that you are not 
killed nor in jail.’’ 

“Thank you, Miss Slade, for your interest in me,’’ responded Doc; 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


39i 

but it was no trick at all to vanquish that bunch of yellow chickens. 
They were desperate and would have finished me if I had been foolish 
enuff to surrender to them; why, Fuller, the cowardly hound, even had a 
pint bottle of nitric acid in his pocket that he intended to smash over my 
face and head. Glum only intended to shoot me—the tender-hearted and 
merciful cuss.” 

‘‘Oh, Doctor! you should have heard Sing Woo tell about the 
fight,” exclaimed Nildred with joy. ‘‘He said: ‘Hoo-lah! DIoctor flight 
like Hellee and hlole flull of wild clats; Hoop-lee!’ and he did an Oriental 
dance that had both class and pep in it. Woo’s a character all right, and 
we all like him.” 

Yes, Woos white enuff on the inside —even if his skin is a little 
yellow,” Doc replied; and they all laffed a triet. 

By the way, Miss Slade, I had a call to go to a nearby town and 
treat an old nabor of yours, and that is why I had to neglect you a little 
last night,” Doc went on to explain. 

‘‘Oh! that was all right. Doctor—but do tell me who the old nabor 
is?” and a look of hungry eagerness came over Miss Slade’s face. 

‘‘It was no less an immortal than Mr. Jobert Fossert, and he is quite 
a changed man now,” quietly announced the Doctor. 

‘‘Jobert Fossert!” almost shrieked the poor girl. ‘‘Is that snal?e 
still living?” 

‘‘Yes; but he was about all in when I found him. He was para¬ 
lyzed and quite helpless, and had given up all hope.” 

‘‘And did you restore the snake. Dr. Nobody?” and a look of sore 
disappointment o’erspread her wasted but beautiful face. 

‘‘Yes, I did my duty in that respect; but before I would take his 
case I forced him to make complete restitution to you for your property 
he euchred you out of;” and Doc passed a self-satisfied smile over to 
Bevna, and fished Fossert’s check out of his pocket and passed it over to 
the trembling and almost hysterical girl. 

‘‘Oh, Dr. Nobody! Is it possible? Is there no limit to your strange 
and uncanny powers of doing good?” and as she read the figures, $9,176, 
and a dim realization of what it meant to her dawned on her agitated mind, 
she broke down and burst into tears and sobbed hysterically. 

‘‘There, there; calm yourself, my girl, for I can see a very bright 
and rosy path ahead of you, and I know you’ll enjoy every step on its 
upward march;” and Doc went over and took her hands in his and soon 
had her quieted and laffing like a school-kid at its first circus. ‘‘But 
really. Miss Slade, Fossert is a different man and sincerely regrets the 


392 


RED KLOVER. 


great wrong he did you. He even told me he was glad of an opportunity 
to pay you in full for what he stole from you. His conscience has been 
sticking pins in him ever since, and I am certain his state of mind was a 
potent factor in causing his paralysis; however, he can now walk, and in 
a few months will be entirely well again. He has learned his lesson 
and has paid the orchestra —union wages.” 

‘‘Oh, I’m so glad I can now pay you for your services and good¬ 
ness to me! Just keep the whole check. Doctor—I won’t need it, now 
that I can see to teach again;” and she extended the piece of paper to him. 

Doc just laffed and said: ‘‘Why, child, you don’t owe me a penny 
—the joy I have got out of helping you has been ample remuneration. 
Now I want you to relax and eat very little for supper to-night, and about 
8 o’clock I’ll come in and give your your final treatment—for now you’ll 
be all right and soon singing and laffing along on that rosy path that leads 
uphill all the way.” 

Just then Doc heard the supper bell singing grand opera, and he 
knew that Sing Woo would have a dandy and dainty little supper ready 
for him and— Nexel. Ah! the music of that name, the melody of her 
touch, the harmony of her caresses! She was waiting near the door, and 
her face was radiant with a new glory when she heard the music of his 
footsteps. She could detect his footsteps among a million. She just kept on 
smiling and silently held out a pretty white hand toward him. He seized it 
and pressed it to his lips reverently, and together they entered the dining¬ 
room and took their seats over by the big southeast window overlooking the 
river. 

‘‘Oh, Nefton dear! I was so scared when I first heard of the riot 
and fight—but now—oh, I am so proud of you! You are surely a 
super-man ,” exclaimed Nexel. 

‘‘Oh, no, Nexel; I’m just a nomadic quack doctor ,” responded Doc; 
and they both laffed a duet. 

After supper Doc had Nildred bring Bevna into the parlor, and for 
an hour and a half the three of them pulled off one of their rare musical 
treats. Then he gave Bevna her treatment and sent her back to her room. 
Then came Nexel’s last treatment. 

‘‘This is the last special treatment, dear Nexel, and to-morrow at 
exactly 12 o’clock your dear eyes will regain their sight, and then the 
great beautiful old world will come back to you again in all its wondrous 
beauty and color,” he told her. 

‘‘But, oh, Nefton! just to see your dear face and look into your dear 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


393 


eyes will be the whole world—to me;” and she drooped into his arms and 
their lips met in a kiss—that needs no eyes. 

After an hour spent with Nexel, Doc kissed her good night and 
started for his room. Driftwood intercepted him and handed him a note. 
It bore this simple message: 

“The boys will secretly guard the hotel to-night. Pleasant dreams. 
Chief. Bob.” 

“Bless their dear faithful hearts-—they’re the real stuff!’’ and Doc 
was off to his dreams—and sky-painting. 

And oh, what iridescent dreams Nexel enjoyed that night—the last 
night of her bondage! To-morrow would bring back the flowers and 
all the world of color—of shade and light—the dear old drifting clouds 
that melt and change into so many fantastic forms. “But, oh, to see 
Nefton, and mama and sister, and all my dear friends, and the dear little 
birds that have been such faithful companions thruout my long, long night!’’ 

Chapter IX. 

THE GREAT EVENT—A FITTING FINALE. 

The next morning was Sunday, and Dr. Nobody took his fill of 
sleep. When he entered the dining-room it was just 9 o’clock. Nexel 
was astir at 7, and had done little else all night than to dream and air- 
castle the future. Sleep only came in fitful spurts and broken dreams, 
and when she awoke and began to dress she was very nervous and excited. 
She went quietly out and roamed about the lawn and thru the big garden, 
and then down to her favorite little bower near the river—where its soft 
and soothing music caressed and quieted her restive spirit. Here is this 
leafy bower of tangled vines and fragrant flowers she usually received her 
little bird friends and the frisky squirrels. They all knew her and loved 
her haunts, and always came and played and sang with her. They would 
light on her hands and shoulders and head, and never tired of playing with 
her; and some of them would follow her clear to the porch when she re¬ 
turned to the house. They all loved her and seemed to understand that 
she lived in darkness. She felt that Nefton would not be down till late. 
Another faculty she had was being aware of the time—and she couldn’t 
be fooled to the extent of one minute even. She entered the big hall just 
as Nefton came down the wide and winding stairs, and they went in the 
dining-room together and enjoyed a dainty and delicate little breakfast that 
Sing Woo had prepared especially for them. It consisted of strawberries 
and cream, figs, juvia nuts, fresh catfish, fried mush, creamed new pota¬ 
toes, coffee with real whipped cream, and fresh butter just out of the 


394 


RED KLOVER. 


churn and that was free from salt. They sure did enjoy it, and Doc sent 
some real cigars back to Woo by Smiles. Then, after an hour of read¬ 
ing and smoking on the big veranda. Doc and Nexel took a guitar and 
banjo and went down to Nexel’s little river nest to play and dream—till 
the momentous hour of twelve. Nexel wanted it that way—desired to be 
alone with her lover when her sight came back to her eyes. 

“Oh, Nefton!” she cried; “the joy—the exquisite glory of just see¬ 
ing your dear face when my lights snap on again! I don’t want to see 
anything else for a long, long time—just your sweet face, and feel the 
protection of your dear arms about me.’’ 

“Oh, you romantic little flower! How very melodramatic! But it 
shall be just as my little precious wishes, for it is her resurrection and our 
ascension into Heaven —the Valhalla and Arcadia of mated souls. We’ll 
arrange our positions so we’ll be facing one another at 12 o’clock, and 
we’ll play ‘ Just A Song at Twilight .’ ’’ 

“Yes, Nefton; that is soft and dreamy, and you can lead with your 
banjo and I’ll softly trill in an alto with my guitar; and all my little bird 
friends will be on hand to help on the chorus. Oh! but won’t that be 
sweet, weird, and romantic?’’ 

“Some dreamer and romancer all right!’’ laffed Doc. 

Then he gathered her to his heart and their ripe and ready lips got 
tangled up some way, and this wild and woolly old world, with all its 
fragrance and color, its music and flowers, just simply faded out and was 
no more. Time had even gone out of business. How much longer the 
sweet soul-chaos would have lasted no one knows; for just then a red- bird 
lighted on Nexel’s head and a long brown wood-thrush located on Nefton’s 
tawny hair and began to sing “Annie Laurie.’’ This was so appropriate 
and amusing that they came out of their trance and began to softly play and 
sing that old immortal Scotch love-song with the birds. 

“Oh, dear!” cried Nexel; “it just lacks two minutes of twelve, and 
I feel like a million eternal suns were all trying to rise over my mental 
horizon at once.” 

“Right you are, sweetheart;” and Nefton glanced at his watch and 
then gazed steadily in her eyes until— 

“Oh, Nefton! I can SEE! Yes, yes, I can see YOU, sweetheart!” and 
she just collapsed into his arms and trembled like an aspen leaf with buck- 
ague. 

He just squeezed her to his heart and planted another kiss on her 
full, ripe lips, and waited—the coming of the Dawn. She just lay limp 
and lifeless in his arms and trembled and softly moaned for about two 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE. 


395 


minutes, and then she threw her arms around her lover’s neck, and if ever 
a man reaped a harvest of soul- kisses—those Vast-Forever Soul-Kisses 
that have planted the deathless seeds of IMMORTALITY in every life, Nefton 
was that man. 

“Oh, look, dear! Isn’t the river beautiful? It’s actually yodeling for 
me! And oh, Nefton, what a BIG boy you are! But I love you and— 
I am yours.” 

“And, little sweetheart dear, I am wholly yours, and it is my wish 
that we be married at once—even to-day, if we can find a minister?’’ 

“Oh, Nefton! you impatient BIG boy! Can’t you wait till to¬ 
morrow?’’ and she gave him another kiss that made waiting hard work. 

“Perhaps, dear, if I have you right in sight every minute of the time, 
and we can get up early in the morning and have it all over with— 
before breakfast.’’ 

“Why, Dr. Nobody! You’ve surely astonished the natives enuff 
already without adding such a stunt as that to your record. And now, 
dear, I must go to the house and see how mama and sister and all the rest 
of them look; and you know I’ve never seen Smiles and Sing Woo and 
Driftwood. Oh! but won’t life be a dream full of colors and music 
now? And to think that I shall have you besides! Oh, Nefton! I’m 
afraid my great happiness will kill me;’’ and she stepped up on a fallen 
log and helped him unload another kiss—that put to-morrow far off in the 
distance. 

The girl’s happiness was only second to her mother’s and sister’s^ 
and the sensational and apparently miraculous event soon spread all over 
the town and to other towns. The wonderful news soon reached Frisco 
and the Doctor soon had a delegation of learned oculists and physicians 
out to Bendville to see him and to learn his secret. 

It would be such a futile waste of time and paper to attempt to 
describe how happy were Mrs. Melvin and Mestel, and all her friends 
and acquaintances. Words are such helpless and inadequate things at 
times—and this was one of the times. However, Mrs. Melvin would not 
hear of the marriage taking place before the next Sunday—just a week 
hence. 

“Surely, Nexel, a week is a very short time to prepare a girl for 
her wedding,’’ the mother said. “We ought to have a month, at least, 
but, considering what Dr. Nobody has done for us, we will have to con¬ 
sider his wishes in the matter; but a week we must have, dauter; so you 
inform the restless young knight that he will have to curb his impatience a 
little.’’ That was mater’s ultimatum, and Doc had to agree to it; but he 


396 


RED KLOVER . 


sure did feel like fighting the League of Nations and singing a solo to the 
Rocky Mountains . 

The news soon spread all over town about Nexel’s miraculous re¬ 
covery from the Great Darkness that had euchred her out of six years of 
her youth, and the Inn sure had a crowded dining-room that evening— 
and even the next morning hundreds of the oldest citizens came in to eat 
their breakfast—in order to see Nexel and congratulate her. After 168 
of the townspeople had been served breakfast Monday morning. Sing Woo 
tossed his big white chef’s cap in the atmosphere and sent the following 
message by Driftwood: “Chloloflom the flools, Dloctor!” And all day 
Monday and most of Tuesday there was a steady stream of townspeople 
calling at the hotel to congratulate Nexel and her mother. Nexel’s father. 
Judge Vestour, was one of the town’s pioneer citizens, and had always 
stood ace-high in the community; and Nexel was such an incomparably 
lovely character that everybody loved her. Every wing for miles around 
knew her and sang paeans of praise at sight of the girl; and she loved 
them all and called them her “ angel children .” It was an everyday sight 
to see the beautiful and patient blind girl wandering about the big shady 
lawns singing to her own accompaniment on the guitar or banjo, and a 
dozen or more birds sitting on her great masses of dusk-tangled hair and 
on her shoulders and fluttering about her and all singing with her. It 
was an unwritten poem and greatly interested strangers. Many a young 
man lingered at the Inn long after his business had been finished in the 
town—just to watch and secretly admire the strange girl and her little 
winged friends; but never a one breathed a word of the unspoken love 
that glowed in his heart and planted flowers in his soul. To them all she 
was a super-girl, an uncanny creature from some other world—to teach 
us gentleness, patience, and humility, and to live true to our ideals. 

After a late dinner that Sunday, the Doctor and his little fiancee 
went for a dream on the river and did not return until the soft and sooth¬ 
ing moonlight lit the way for their tiny barque. They had fully matured 
all their plans for the wedding on the following Sunday, and they both 
decided that an ordinary wedding would not do at all. Something unique 
and different from all other weddings would be required for the union of 
such extraordinary people. They would be married just at sun-up, when 
the whole place would be bathed in all the rich and mystic glory of a 
sunrise on the Sacramento River in the soft and tawny haze of a perfect 
autumn morning in mid-October—a time when Nature is using all the 
colors on her palette—a season when even the immortal Rubens would 
feel like a rookie on a rainbow. Every wing would vibrate with life and 


DR. NOBODY FROM NOWHERE . 


397 


help reflect the sun’s myriad rays, and every throat would be caroling the 
great Cod of Da ij as he slowly rose o’er the hazy horizon. Surely an ideal 
time and place for celebrating a love-feast. They would meet in the 
Inn, and each be dressed in gala attire—she in white trimmed in red, and 
he dressed in soft gray trimmed in a soft and whispering shade of red. 
With their guitar and banjo they would slowly walk down to Nexel’s little 
leafy bower near the river, and softly sing and yodel as they walked along. 
When they reached the bower, Nefton would take her in his arms, and 
while they thus stood facing the beautiful river, an orchestra of seven 
pieces, hidden in the shrubbery and behind the vines and trees, would softly 
play “Here Comes the Minister.’’ At the conclusion of the wedding 
march, the minister, who is entirely invisible to the combatants, begins 
slowly to read the marriage service, while the culprits stand facing the 
river and clasped in each other’s arms—instead of merely playing hands, 
as in the old way. 

“Dr. Nobody, do you want to keep this little girl you now hold in 
your arms, for all time?’’ 

“I’ll say so—and then some!’’ replied Doc. 

“Miss Vestour, are you willing to stick # to the man in whose arms 
you are now resting, till the cows come home and the sheep wander away 
again?’’ 

“You know it—and if he ever looks at another skirt, I’ll eat him 
alive!’’ 

Here a few Vast-forever Soul-kisses are inserted. 

“Then, in accordance to Man’s statutes and Nature’s eternal and 
unchangeable laws , I pronounce you one and equals , and neither one is 
to be boss!” 

Some more Soul-kisses, and then the minister and their relatives and 
guests all part the bushes and come forth and congratulate them and wish 
them happiness. 

Doc’s fast and nifty little launch is already just below them, and it 
is a bower of flowers and gaily festooned bunting, with the American 
flag flying from the bow and singing “The Star-spangled Banner’’ for 
them. As the boat starts off up the river their friends throw flowers, in¬ 
stead of rice, over them. They will be off at about 6:30, and after a 
short trip up the river they will get back at about ten, and will find a dainty 
and delicious little wedding breakfast ready for them, and it will be served 
at Nexel’s little dream bower down by the river. After the breakfast 
they will start on a month’s honeymoon trip down the river to Frisco and 
return. They will live like gypsies or Bohemians on their boat and do 


398 


RED KLOVER. 


their own cooking. They can have fish right out of the river into the 
frying-pan, and will gather wild fruits and nuts along the way; and oh, 
what a dream-time! 

As their boat starts off down the river the orchestra softly plays 
“Nancy Lee” and “A Life on the Ocean Wave,’’ and Nefton and Nexel 
join in and play it with the orchestra until they cannot see nor hear the 
“ork” any longer. They tried to slip into Frisco and attend the theaters 
without the reporters getting onto them, but it was no use—the whole ro¬ 
mantic affair was too good copy to bury on a rear page; so they bloomed 
all over the front pages and were pestered to death by all sorts of people 
wanting to meet them and sick-folks wanting Doc to cure them. They 
soon gave Frisco up as impossible, and took to their little launch and drifted 
back up the river to home. 

Doc bought about 400 acres of land up the river a short distance, 
and together they builded themselves an artistic and ideal little home-nest— 
where Nexel could daily meet her little bird friends; an Arcadia where 
only happiness could enter. The sick and crippled came to Doc from 
all over the country and he devoted six hours every day to them. 

The crooks that had planned to arrest Doc on a trumped-up charge, 
so as to murder him by a hypodermic injection of cyanide of potassium, 
all left Bendville and never returned. 

Little Bevna Slade resumed music-teaching and soon had more than 
she could do. She climbed up rapidly and was very popular and much 
sought after by the men, but she steadfastly turned them all down and 
gave her whole time and life to her beloved music. After two years of 
turning them down, she got mad one day and married Bob Pelton —“be¬ 
cause he just wouldn’t stay turned down,” she explained to Doc and 
Nexel after the event was history. 

“Well, Bevna, you got a real man when you captured my friend 
Bob; but if he doesn’t behave and obey you properly, you just send for 
me!’’ and Doc slapped Bob on the back and wished them every happiness. 

And as pairing off seemed quite epidemic. Driftwood persuaded 
Smiles to wear his name and help him make a living. Poor old Woo just 
shrugged his Celestial shoulders and grunted: “White flokes alle samee 
clazy!’’ Jobert Fossert recovered entirely and became one of Doc’s best 
friends and supporters. At the next election the people of Bendville wanted 
to elect Doc as their mayor, but he declined and nominated Mr. Robert 
Pelton , and any nag that Doc backed in those days got the blue ribbon. 

The End. 


JOE’S BABY. 


Chapter I. 

Joseph Bentley NileTDood was raised on a farm near Fort Wayne, 
Indiana, but had little inclination for farm life. Joe had considerable 
wanderlust in his blood and was something of a poet and a dreamer. He 
remained on his father’s farm till he was twelve years of age and his 
father died; then he went to live with his Uncle Henry Nilewood on a 
farm in an adjoining county. Uncle Henry was a good enuff man as 
men were then measured in the rural districts, but he was of the pious and 
devout variety, and believed that plenty of hard work was the only salva¬ 
tion for a boy—or girl, either. Uncle Henry was also deficient in a sense 
of humor and frowned on most of life’s pastimes and amusements. He 
didn’t believe in dancing and other amusements of the youngsters, and a 
deck of cards was a device of Satan for leading souls to perdition. One 
Sunday afternoon late in April he caught his nephew and three of the 
naboring boys up in the barn-loft with a deck of cards between them. 
This was evidence enuff of their lost condition. Uncle Henry promptly 
confiscated the cards and then and there proceeded to teach Joe a lesson 
“the young rascal would never forget.” As Uncle Henry was a big 
and husky man of only thirty-eight, he easily administered a sound thrash¬ 
ing to Joe and promised to report the other lads to their parents. This 
harsh and brutal treatment added to a cold and desolate life was the last 
brick that caused the whole structure to crumble and fall. When Joe 
was taken over to Uncle Henry’s shortly after the demise of his father, 
the lad was told that if he stuck and worked hard and lived in the fear 
of the Lord till he was twenty-one, from that time on he would be paid 
the munificent sum of $ 1 2 a month and his keep. 

Every lash of the cruel halter-strap over Joe’s back and arms only 
increased the wanderlust in the lad’s blood, and that very night he planned 
to leave Uncle Henry’s—without bidding that kind and gentle old man 
adieu. As the boy had nothing in the way of luggage except a cheap 
suit of homespun clothes and his work clothes, it didn’t take him long to 
make his get-away. About midnight, after he had satisfied himself 
that his sweet and gentle uncle was sleeping peacefully, Joe hastily donned 
his only suit and Sunday boots, and with his mother’s picture in his coat 
pocket and $1.32 in money, he noiselessly slipped out and drifted away 
toward town. About 3 o’clock that morning he was lucky enuff to 



400 


RED KLOVER. 


catch a freight that was just pulling out of the yards on the Big Four 
for St. Louis. The train rambled along all that night, and about ten 
the next night it snorted into East Saint Louis and stopped. The train 
crew soon left it, and it wasn’t long until Joe decided the blamed old 
thing was stalled or something else was wrong with it. He did not know 
that a train ever had a destination and went no further; however, Joe was 
acquiring information of all kinds, and very rapidly at that. After de¬ 
ciding the train was going no further, he crawled out of the lumber-car 
and began stretching his legs and getting some fresh air in his lungs. 
He also realized that his stomach was trying to send him a wireless. 
He had not tasted of food since his dinner on the preceding Sunday, and 
of course he had an appetite. He was still sore and his lash-wounds were 
smarting and hurting like blazes, and the twenty-hour bumping on that 
freight didn’t soothe his wounds or feelings in the least. Joe felt like 
taking a fall out of the whole world. 

He had hardly gotten well out of that car, and was wondering where 
to go and how to find the way, when a railroad bull (a detective) ap¬ 
proached him and bawled out: “Hey there, Bo! Where’n hell did yuh 
come from?” 

“My name’s not Bo, and I just dropped down from Heaven;” 
and the boy gave him a look that was a good-bye and a challenge. Then 
he started away toward the river, but not realizing where he was nor 
where he was going. 

“Hold on there! you little devil, you’ll have to come along with 
me,” cried the bull, and he made a grab for the boy; but Joe was too 
quick for him and ducked down and grabbed up a big 6-pound lump of 
coal and let it go with all his might at the bull’s head, and it caught him 
full over his left ear and face. The bull went down and out, but Joe 
didn’t stay to see how long he would remain hors du combat; in fact, it 
wasn’t a bit of Joe’s business to give “first aid” to battered bulls; besides, 
the boy considered that the bull deserved all he got. 

After wandering around in the network of rails and ties in the 
freight yards, the boy finally saw a street-car go whizzing by. He soon 
found the tracks, and when the next car arrived he climbed aboard and 
was soon over in St. Louis. He drifted into a cheap cafe down near 
the water-front and spent fifteen cents for something to eat. Then he 
wandered along the water-front till daylight, when he came upon a big 
steamboat that had just docked and was discharging its passengers and 
cargo. As this was Joe’s first boat, it was a wonder-thing to the lad. 
How easily and gracefully the giant thing glided thru the water! “And 


JOE’S BABY. 


401 


don’t seem to have any fear of drowning,” mused Joe to himself. And 
it was wonderful the way the deck-hands unloaded it. It seemed to the 
boy they would never get the packages and boxes and barrels all out 
and on the shore. ‘‘By gum! it must hold more than a freight train,” 
exclaimed the lad in wonderment. After awhile people began to come 
with their bags and luggage and go aboard the great thing. Joe decided 
he wanted to ride on the big boat, so he strolled on deck as the others 
were doing. No one was there to stop him or to ask any questions. The 
boat had left St. Louis about an hour and was proceeding down the 
great river, when the Captain found the boy and asked for his ticket. 

‘‘I haven’t any such a thing,” meekly admitted the lad, and he 
hung his head and fidgeted with his hands. 

‘‘Well, my boy, every one who rides on this boat must have a ticket;” 
and the Captain laid his hand gently on the lad’s shoulder and looked 
him over critically. ‘‘Where do you want to go, son?” kindly continued 
the official. 

‘‘Any place where the boat goes, I reckon,” timidly admitted Joe. 

‘‘Aren’t you running away from home?” asked the Captain. 

‘‘Not exactly, for I have no home since my parents died. I went 
to live with my Uncle Henry, but he beat me awfully because me and 
some other boys played cards one Sunday. He nearly starved me to 
death, and wanted me to do nothing but work and work and be solium 
and go to church and read the Bible all the time; so I lit out and want 
to make my own way in the world;” and Joe looked the Captain square 
in the eyes and never flinched. 

‘‘That’s the way to talk, my boy; be a real little man and^make 
your own way in the world, and don’t let anyone run over you;” and 
the man again patted the boy on the shoulder. 

‘‘How much money have you, Joe?” and the Captain winked to 
himself as he asked the question. 

‘‘About a dollar, I reckon;” and Joe looked anything but pros¬ 
perous. 

‘‘I thot so. Well, Joseph, how would you like to stay on the boat 
and help me—do errands, and such like?’ 

‘‘That would be fine, and I’ll do my best if you will give me a 

‘‘All right, my boy; you are in my employ, and you must be honest, 
respectful, and truthful, and do whatever I tell you to do. I’ll pay you 
twenty dollars a month and give you all the good grub you can eat, 
and you’ll bunk on the boat of course. 


402 


RED KEOVER. 


Joe was nearly fifteen when he got his job on the /o//p Rover , as 
the boat was named. He remained with his good friend. Captain Morris, 
for three years. He soon won the confidence and respect of all he met. 
He studied hard and soon acquired an education, and had saved up his 
money and now had good clothes and about $700 in cash. He had 
been running from St. Louis to New Orleans, and had learned telegraphy 
—and many other useful things. He was always loyal and faithful to 
the Captain and a great help to that official. The Captain was a widower 
and had lost his only son; so Joe walked right into his big heart from the 
start. The Captain had received injuries in an accident that resulted in 
his death a few weeks afterward. Joe remained with him and nursed 
him to the last. He left Joe his fine gold watch and diamond shirt-stud 
and $3,000 in cash. 

Joe was again out on the great sea of Life and had no definite plans 
in view. He had heard so many tales about the great Southwest, he 
decided to see it; so he started for El Paso. After nocking around 
that quaint old town for about two weeks, he decided to stick and began 
looking for a job. At the boarding-house where Joe lived in El Paso 
he met a number of railroad men, and one day he told them he was a 
telegrapher and wanted work. 

“Why, our Superintendent is in need of several men, and I happen 
to know that he wants a man for the station out at Pecos,” said one of 
the men. The agent out there recently eloped with the company’s money 
—both the express and railroad, and as it is such a lonely little hole, it is 
hard to get a good man to go out there and stick.” 

“Where is Pecos?” inquired Joe doubtfully. 

“It’s about seventy-five miles southeast of here and on the main line 
of the T. & P.; and the Santa Fe comes in there from the north, and the 
Pecos Valley Southern has a branch running south from there. It’s a 
desert of a place, but the work is light and one has plenty of time to read 
and dream—if one is inclined that way. It also has plenty of Mexicans, 
Indians, prairie dogs, sand, rattlesnakes, and tarantulas, but the climate is 
cool and salubrious—seldom getting above 130 in the summer time; but 
then the summers are short—only lasting from February 1 3th to December 
29th. The rest of the year the temperature is moderate—about 99 to 
110. It is on the beautiful Pecos River and back about seventy-five 
miles from the Rio Grande.” The other railroad men all joined in the 
laff at their comrade’s vivid (and more or less truthful) description of the 
Pecos Valley and the town of Pecos. 


JOE’S BABY . 


403 


“Some town!” was Joe’s quiet comment. “However, I’ll drop 
around in the morning and have a talk with the Superintendent.” 

It didn’t take the Superintendent long to convince Joe that Pecos 
was a peach of a place and a good place to live. “Have you a family, 
Mr. Nilewood?” he asked, after looking Joe over carefully. 

“No, sir; I’m all alone in the world. I never found but one girl I 
wanted, and she wanted the other fellow;” and Joe smiled grimly. 

“Too bad, my boy; but life is full of ruff places and we have many 
bumps coming to us before we get thru. I was in hopes you was a mar¬ 
ried man, for they are more likely to stick than a single man; however, 
they have some mighty pretty girls out at Pecos, and you may succumb 
to their wiles and get married.” 

“Possibly,” admitted Joe. “One never knows just what he may 
bump into.” 

“Then you are willing to take the job?” inquired the Superintendent. 
“We pay sixty-five dollars a month to start with, and if you prove the right 
man and we can trust you, the salray will be raised to eighty-five a 
month.” 

“Well, if you will furnish me transportation out there, I’ll go out and 
look the place over and see what I can find in the way of a place to board 
and so forth.” 

“Sure—here you are, and you can go out on No. 4 tonight, which 
leaves at 6:20. If you decide to stick, just wire me and we’ll put you 
right to work. The boob we have there now is wanting to quit and we 
have a hard time to keep him there till we can send a man to relieve him. 
Good day, Mr. Nilewood, and success to you.” 

“Weunos stardes , senor 

“Oh! do you speak Spanish? That will be a great asset to you out 
there.” 

Chapter II. 

JOE’S NEW JOB. 

About 9:40 that night Joe arrived in Pecos on No. 4, and put up 
for the night at the only hotel the place afforded—a dirty and dinky little 
two-story frame dwelling-house that had been converted into a hotel. It 
was run by a renegade American and his half-breed wife. The bedbugs 
introduced themselves and would not stand for any discourtesy or lack of 
respect on the part of the guests. Joe never remembered whether it was 
nine or eleven dogs they harbored, and that slept in the house and in the 
beds that were not occupied by human guests or so many bedbugs the dogs 


4 o 4 


RED KLOVER. 


could not sleep soundly. Anyway, one night there was all that Joe could 
stand. He got his breakfast at a cafe where they serve chili-concarne, pie 
and prairie dog tracks for breakfast; and as he did not try their other 
meals, I am unable to tell my readers what they fed their guests at the 
other meals. After breakfast Joe started in to give the place a careful 
once-over and see if he could find a suitable room and place to board. 
If he could find anything in the eating line or in the way of a foom that 
suited him, he felt sure he could stand the climate and the citizens. As for 
society and amusement, he realized that his duties at the stopo (new word 
for depot ) would take up most of his time, and the balance he intended to 
employ in reading and increasing his education and improving his mind; so 
he had no fears on those scores; but Joe did like a comfortable room and 
a good clean place to eat. 

There were few rooms to be had, and they were rather primitive and 
anything but clean; however, after looking the town over, a young doctor 
told him of Mrs. Zemba Turner’s boarding-house up on the hill, Joe soon 
climbed up there, and estimated it to be a full half-mile from the stopo. 
“But I’ll need some daily exercise,’’ he said, “and in this way I’ll be sure 
to get it; besides, there is a beautiful view from here, and I can see the 
pretty little Pecos River winding and dreaming along toward the Rio 
Grande like a silver dream ribbon. Yes, I like it up here, and it kind o’ 
seems homelike already.” He soon applied the old-fashioned nocker to 
the door, and a real petite and pretty little Mexican girl answered his 
summons with a smile and a merry “Buenos dias, senor ,” and she opened 
the door and invited him to come in and she would announce his presence 
to “/a Senora” Senora Turner soon appeared and made a pleasant obei¬ 
sance and politely asked Joe what was on his mind. 

“I am looking for a place to room and board, and Dr. Benton 
recommended your place to me,” returned Joe in his easy and indolent 
manner, which he acquired in the Southland. 

“What is your business or occupation?” tentatively inquired the 
winsome Senora Turner, who was just turned of thirty, but looked much 
younger. 

“I’m the new stopo agent, and will take charge down there today if I 
can find suitable quarters to live in this town,” Joe replied. 

This seemed satisfactory to the madam, and she informed Joe that 
her big southeast room had just been vacated that morning, and she thot 
they could manage to feed him. Joe looked at the room and said it would 
do, and soon the terms were agreed on and all arrangements made. 

“Very well, Mrs. Turner; I’ll go back to the stopo and wire the 


JOE’S BABY . 405 

Superintendent in El Paso that I will take hold and make things hum and 
have the boys send my trunk and suit-case down on No. 2 in the morning. 
And here is the money for the first week;” and Joe handed her seven 
dollars. 

Then Joe returned to the stopo and sent the following wire to the 
Superintendent: “Will stick and make things sizzle. Joe B. NlLE- 

WOOD.” 

When the Superintendent read it, he remarked to the Roadmaster, 
who happened to be in his office: ‘‘That fellow’s the right stuff, and I 
feel that our troubles out at Pecos are past.” 

‘‘It does have the right ring,” said the Roadmaster, ‘‘and I hope he 
will stick and keep things moving out there. How old is he?” 

‘‘Twenty-five, he told me, and he is a pleasant and clean-cut young 
man that is well set up and has a clear and honest eye and a hand-shake 
that indicates reserve power and executive ability of a high character;” 
and the Superintendent looked relieved and well pleasd. He wired the 
other man out there to turn the office over to Joe and then come in on 
No. 5 that night and report in the morning. 

At 1 1 :45 that day Joe took charge of the office and became the 
company’s sole representative at Pecos; and Joseph did make things sizzle, 
too, as he promised to do. The railroad’s business gradually increased and 
Joe soon wrote to friends of his in New Orleans and elsewhere and told 
them of the wonderful opportunities in that land of eternal sunshine and 
cactus-back fleas. Inside of a year Joe had induced forty-eight people 
to come there and locate, and they all succeeded, and they in turn caused 
others to come. One of the first things that Joe did was to buy up, with 
the $3,000 the old Captain had left him, 160 acres of fine land near 
Pecos and six town lots near the stopo, which Joe figured out would make 
an ideal site for a mill and elevator. The town at that time had no such 
things. He got the 160 acres for $5 an acre, and the six lots near the 
stopo for $ 1 0 each; and then he found eight vacant lots in the outskirts 
for sale, and soon bought them for $10 apiece. This only knocked a 
little old dinky hole in his $3,000 to the extent of $940. He had most, 
of the $700 he had saved up, and now had a good job and a place to live 
and board that appealed strongly to his nature. He liked the landlady 
and felt sure she liked him; and the little Mexican senorita was about as 
chipper and pretty as they make them, and Joe felt sure she would be a 
friend, and admitted to himself that he liked her. 

Joe knew of a friend in St. Louis who was a first-class carpenter, 
but could not let booze alone long enuff to get anything ahead. He was 


406 


RED KLOVER. 


always hard up and broke most of the time. He owed Joe $75 that Joe 
loaned him when he was sick and had to go to the hospital. Joe wrote 
him and asked if he wanted to come out there, where there was plenty of 
room and pure air and more opportunity than in the crowded cities. He 
replied that he wanted to do that very thing, but didn’t have enuff to pay 
his fare so far. Joe sent him transportation and in about a week he blew 
into Pecos and greeted Joe with: “Hello, old top! This is a hell of a 
country you have out here.’’ 

“I’m feeling fine, Jasper; and after you get some of that St. Louis 
smoke out of your lungs and get acclimated, you’ll like it out here; any¬ 
way, you can do much better out here than in the cities. If you will brace 
up; I’ll grub-stake you and help you get on the right side of the ledger;’’ 
and Joe grasped his hand in true Western style. 

“All right, Joe; it’s me for the straight and dry lane from now on. 
What yer got up yer sleeve?” was Jasper’s hearty response. 

“Did you bring your tools with you?” inquired Joe. 

“Yep; I left nothin’ behind but a few debts and a lovely reputation.” 
They both laffed at this bit of wit, for Joe well knew what a “/ove/p” 
reputation Jasper left behind in the Mound City. 

“Well,” replied Joe, “I’ve just taken a flyer in some vacant lots, 
and the town is greatly in need of small houses of about five rooms; in 
fact, it is in need of most everything a town needs to make it grow and 
amount to anything. I intend to build neat little five-room houses on my 
lots and rent them to friends of mine who will come out here and locate as 
soon as they can get a decent house to live in. Now I thot you would 
be glad of a chance to get away from the city, where you could never be 
anybody or anything, and get away out here and start life all over again. 
You are about my age and a good mechanic, and I want to employ you at 
your trade building my houses, and there will be plenty more work in your 
line, for I intend to put this dead little burg on the map and make it hum.” 

“Bully for you, Joe! You always was a sort of a leader and gifted 
with prophecy. Your plan just suits me clean down to the ground, for I 
realize it will be my salvation, and then it will give me a chance to repay 
what I owe you. Shake again, old man. I’m right with you, and I am 
going to shake my old master—Mr. Booze!” 

“Good!” exclaimed Joe with fervor; “now I know I can make a 
man out of you and help you up the heights.” 

“Where do we eat in this blisterin’ place?” and Jasper took in his 
belt another notch and wiped the sweat with the other hand at the same 
time. 


407 


JOE’S BABY. 

“Why—er—I have a dandy place up at a private boarding-house 
on top of the hill away off yonder, and it gives one an appetite to climb 
up there;’’ and Joe smiled pleasantly at his old friend. 

Well, I don’t think I need anything to increase my appetite—just 
the opposite is what I need. I feel so empty I could eat the sow and pigs 
and follow the boar a mile.’’ They both laffed at this sally of wit. 

“In about twenty minutes I’ll have things cleaned up and I’ll take you 
up with me and see if Mrs. Turner and Julene can fill you up. Mrs. 
Turner is my landlady, and Julene is the little Mexican girl of all work 
—and she’s a beaut, too; but you’ve got to be mighty careful of your con¬ 
duct up there, for the madam is inclined to be a sky-brow,’’ said Joe. 

“I’ll have to get a shave and clean up a little before I can face a 
place like that;’’ and Jasper swelled up like war profits and struck an 
attitude. 

“I have a razor in my room and I’ll try and make you presentable,’’ 
said Joe. 

“They soon reached Mrs. Turner’s home, and by good 1 luck no one 
saw Jasper slip in with Joe; so when he was introduced by Joe as a friend, 
he readily passed muster, and as he was really a good-looking and pleasant 
young man, he made a good impression. Mrs. Turner had fifteen men 
boarders and ten young women—most of whom were good-looking. Joe 
had coached Jasper about his language and manners, so he got by very 
nicely. Among the men boarders was Mr. Winton, the owner of the 
largest store in Pecos, and he had many repairs he needed in his store, and, 
he wanted to build on an extension to his store and put up two stories on 
top of it and make them into office rooms, etc.; and he desired to build a 
warehouse; so, when he found that Jasper was a carpenter, he immediately 
got interested in him and engaged him to do the work for him while Joe 
Was getting his materials ready for his house-building. Jasper found a 
room at Mrs. Turner’s and made arrangements to eat there. Joe gave 
him $50, so he could get some proper clothes and to pay his board and 
look prosperous, etc. He didn’t want any of them to know that his friend 
Jasper was down and out. Yes, Joe was some manager. The next day 
Jasper went to work for Mr. Winton, and in less than a week he had 
enuff work in sight to keep him employed for a year. Jasper got some new 
clothes and a hair-cut, and soon looked like a new mortal. Life looked 
altogether different to him now. No more booze and dissipation for Jasper. 
He was now inspired to live the higher life and stand in with the people 
worth knowing. 


RED KLOVER. 


408 

Chapter III. 

PECOS HAS A BOOM. 

Under Joe’s skillful management real live people from the East began 
to pour into Pecos and embark in business. Among these was Mr. Grant 
Holden and his wife and dauter, Elzie. Mr. Holden had quite a bit of 
money, and his wife had recently inherited $60,000 from her father’s 
estate. They saw that the town needed a hotel about as much as a town 
can need such an enterprise, so they got busy and put up a first-class little 
hotel of sixty rooms and furnished it nicely, and then conducted it as a 
hotel ought to be conducted. It was a big success from the start. Mr. 
Holden was the means of bringing two more carpenters and a brick-layer 
and a stone-mason to the burg, and these were kept on the jump from the 
time they landed. Joe soon found a man who was looking for a mill-site 
and a good place for an elevator. Joe bought up five acres of land on the 
river-front where a mill would want to locate. This only cost him $40. 
The mill-man soon blew in and at once picked his site for the mill. Joe 
sold him the five acres for an even $1,000, and one of his houses and lots 
that Jasper had just finished, for $1,800. Joe had customers for all his 
houses, and now he invested in ten more lots and continued to build neat 
little five-room cottages. After Joe had been there about three months, 
he and Jasper went out and roamed all over the valley, and on their 
rambles they found a real beauty-spot just two miles up the river. At 
that point the river spread out and was quite wide and much deeper than 
usual, and the river at this point circled around like a letter U and almost 
made an island out of that neck of land. The land inside of this “U” 
was about sixty-eight acres and full of beautiful trees. Joe at once saw 
that Nature intended this beauty-spot for a park and playground for the 
people. He said nothing to Jasper while they fished there and soon caught 
a big string of catfish and pike. Joe soon found the owner was a man who 
lived in San Antonio, Texas. He got a week’s lay-off and transportation 
to the Texas town and return. When he returned he had a deed to that 
land, and immediately set about converting it into a park and pleasure 
resort. It was a success from the start, and after three years Joe sold it to 
the town for $30,000. The railroad and express business were increasing 
so fast the Superintendent in El Paso came down on No. 2 one Tuesday 
morning to investigate. He soon found it was all due to their enterprising 
agent. They had raised his salary to $80 a month after he had held the 
post six months; now they raised him to $150. 

The company was delighted with Joe, and soon laid their plans to 
elect him mayor; but only on condition that he would stay with them as 


JOE’S BABY. 


409 


their agent. The next spring Joe was almost unanimously elected the mayor 
of Pecos, but took it all modestly and buckled in and worked harder than 
ever. Joe was popular with all he met, and up at Mrs. Turner’s he was 
I T T. The landlady herself had cast many an admiring eye at Joe, but 
he did not seem a bit interested in calico. Almost every girl and old maid 
in town went angling for Joseph, but Joe was a shy fish and refused to bite 
at any calico bait. Julene was very much interested in him, but she soon 
found it would only be a waste of time to cast a line in his direction; so 
she turned her attention to Jasper, and Jasper seemed only too willing to 
play the calico game with the pretty little Julene Dantos. Julene’s father 
was French and her mother half Spanish and half Indian. She was a real 
bright and clever little girl and chuck-full of love and romance. She was 
also quite musical and played and sang well on the guitar and piano. 
Jasper was crazy about her, and he was also making good in every way 
and was out of debt and had about $1,500 saved up for the event. 

The town had gained more than a thousand inhabitants since Joe 
located there. Joe was reticent about his past, and some of the gossips 
even hinted that he had a wife back east somewhere, and that was why 
he refused to be captured by the fair sex. Joe simply would not discuss 
his past with anyone, but had told Mrs. Turner at the beginning that he 
was single. Joe continued his public-spirited enterprises and the town 
continued to fill up with strangers. Everything he touched was a success 
and he was rapidly becoming wealthy; but this and his political honors did 
not spoil him in the least. He took hold as mayor early in April, and the 
latter part of May an event happened that almost bumped him off the map 
and that altered his whole life. This event was so strange and fascinating 
that it was the cause of this story being written. 

Chapter IV. 

WOONA NILEWOOD. 

May 27th dawned bright and clear with not a cloud in the sky— 
in fact, a perfect day. Joe had arrived at the stopo a little before 8 
o’clock, as was his custom, as he had to be there and ready for business 
at 8 a. m. He was feeling very fine and happy and whistling On the 
Banks of the ^Vabash,” a quaint old Indiana love-song that in some way 
often played hookey in Joe’s big heart. It may have been partly due to the 
fact that Joe was a native son of Indiana, and then it might have been 
partly due to another affair in Natchez, Mississippi. As Joe stated to the 
Superintendent, he had never found but one girl he wanted, and she wanted 
the other fellow. This girl was also a native of Indiana, and Joe met her 


4io 


RED KLOVER. 


on the boat when he was with Captain Morris. She was on her way to 
Natchez to visit her mother’s relatives. She got a half-Nelson on Joe’s 
heart, but he couldn’t even get a promise to write out of her. This little 
incident settled the calico game for Joe. 

On this particular morning Joe had only been at the key a few 
minutes to call the dispatcher and Superintendent to report on duty when 
he felt something soft and clinging trying to climb up his left leg, and 
cooing softly and making a sound that sounded like “W-o-o-n-a.” His 
first impulse was to think it was a cat purring against his leg, as cats are 
wont to do. He quickly looked down, and his eyes encountered a pair of 
the most wonderfully beautiful eyes any human ever saw, and they con¬ 
tinued to look into his as the owner of the eyes kept up the cooing sound 
of “W-o-o-n-a” and tried to climb up his leg. It was only a little girl, not 
quite two years old, and the most wondrously beautiful child Joe had ever 
seen. Joe reached down with a sweet smile and lifted the child up on his 
lap. She didn’t seem in the least afraid of him, and just snuggled up 
closer to him and hid her face on his breast and continued the strange 
and weird cooing, “ W-o-o-n-a .” She looked pale, and Joe soon guessed 
that the child was hungry. Here was a pretty pickle indeed! “Where 
in the world did the child come from, and how did she get in there?” 
And many other similar questions crowded in on his bewildered mind and 
clamored for an answer. 

The little waif just clung to his shirt and seemed perfectly happy— 
but hungry. Joe had several cans of cream in the baggage-room waiting 
for No. 5 that night, and it didn’t take him long to get some of the rich 
cream for the little castaway; and the way the poor little thing did eat 
and cooed and smiled up at her host was enuff to touch any heart. Joe’s 
whole heart just opened up and took the little stranger in at one gulp— 
and a new and sweet happiness swept over his soul and the skies had new 
tints and the flowers all had a new and sweeter fragrance; in fact, Joe 
was happy and contented for the first time in all his life. 

Joe now realized what was lacking from his life to complete it and 
make him happy. He had plenty of wealth now, and had been highly 
honored by the citizens by being elected mayor, etc., but always realized 
that Something was still lacking; and now he knew what it was. He 
needed the love of a wife and children to make his life complete and a real 
success; but what in the world would he do with the little waif? How 
could he account for her up at the boarding-house? Of course the whole 
town would soon know it, and what a scandal it would cause! Nobody 
would believe him when he told them that the child just appeared like a 


JOE’S BABY . 411 

cloud or a dream, and here she was and insisted on remaining. Joe 
wouldn’t have given her up for all the world, and yet what could he, an old 
bachelor and a very busy man, do with a child—a mere baby yet? These 
were some questions, I will admit, but as it is Joe’s problem, and not mine. 
I’ll just let him attend to it, and I feel quite sure my readers will be pro¬ 
foundly interested in following Joe up to the boarding-house and witnessing 
the performance, for I assure you it will be a piece of vaudeville well 
worth seeing. 

“If the fools only had good sense and could be reasonable,” mused 
Joe to himself, “it would be all right; but they will only laff at my story 
and say: ‘Humph! he can tell that to the marines—but not to us. This 
explains rvhy he never got interested in the women. The wretch has a wife 
somewhere back East that he’s deserted, or the child is an illegitimate one 
of his and some poor girl he’s ruined, and she has sent it to him before she 
killed herself, and so on.” The more Joe thot of it the more he felt like 
a poor culprit being led to the scaffold by an unemotional sheriff. And 
the more he tried to explain it the worse he’d make it; but anyway, he’d 
keep the kid—no matter what happened. If it came to a show-down, he 
could flee to unknown parts and start all over again and rear the child as 
his own. The little waif seemed to intuitively sense the feelings that surged 
thru his mind and heart, for she only clung closer to him and cooed over 
and over again the one word, “IF-o-o-n-a.” And when she caught his 
eyes, she just smiled and smiled at him and seemed perfectly happy. And 
every smile and clinging touch of the little hands only carried her further 
into Joe’s heart and soul. 

It was now time to close up and start home—to Mrs. Turner’s. He 
resolutely took the child in his strong arms and pressed her to his heart and 
kissed her smiling face, and the kid just squeezed her pretty white and 
shapely little arms around his sun-burned neck and cooed, “kF-o-o-n-a.” 
“Bless its sweet little heart—I wish it was my very own!” said Joe. The 
child seemed to understand, for she just squeezed all the harder and smiled 
with a smile that would melt the ice from any heart. 

In about twenty-five minutes Joe reached Mrs. Turner’s, and, as luck 
would have it, nearly all the boarders were assembled on the wide veranda 
and some of them lounging out in the big front yard and enjoying the soft 
and abundant grass. When he saw what an audience he would have, his 
heart seemed bent on just sinking thru the earth; however, he stiffened up 
his backbone and marched up like a conquering hero returning from France. 
It would be only a waste of words to say that he was the cynosure of all 
eyes. 


412 


RED KLOVER. 


“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Just see what a nice little guest 
I have;’’ and then speech seemed to desert him and his legs seemed to have 
forgotten their function. 

“Some guest you have, Mr. Mayor,’’ said Mr. Winston, politely 
bowing. “Would you mind introducing her by name P” and the others all 
smiled broadly, but said nothing. 

“Certainly, Mr. Winston. Meet Miss Woona Nilewood,’’ and Joe 
carried the child up to where Mr. Winston was standing, and as he reached 
her out toward that gentleman the child just smiled at him sweetly, but 
clung all the closer to Joe. 

“Oh, and just to think that our chief executive has a dauter and we 
didn’t know it!” chipped in Miss Venice George, the principal of the 
schools. 

“Just an adopted dauter,” corrected Joe, nervously. 

“Indeed!” coldly exclaimed Miss Stella Ferguson, a bookkeeper in 
the only bank the town afforded. 

“Yes; I just adopted her today,” continued Joe, for lack of some¬ 
thing better to say. 

“Of course her mother is dead?” sarcastically inquired Mrs. Bentley 
Martin, wife of a wealthy cattleman and mine-owner. 

“I’m sure I don’t—Oh, yes, to be sure she is,” corrected Joe, but 
he was a little too late. 

The ladies all got up and filed into the house, and Mr. Winston 
went up to Joe and said kindly: “My boy, you’ve sure got both feet into 
it.” 

Then Joe called the men boarders around him and told the story 
straight; but most of them only smiled good-naturedly and proceeded to 
roll another cigaret. Mr. Winston and Jasper stood by the Mayor and 
said they believed every word of it, and Jasper even offered to fight any¬ 
one who doubted Joe’s story. “Oh! of course we all believe the Mayor’s 
yarn,” protested the men present; but their looks belied their words. 

Joe waited outside on the lawn till the women boarders had finished 
and come out again, and then he took his guest in his arms and walked 
bravely in and faced Mrs. Turner. Her face was a study, but mostly 
inscrutable; however, she was willing to hear his explanation, but as she 
had already heard it from the other boarders, and their uncharitable com¬ 
ments on it, she was very much inclined, woman like, to doubt his story. 

Joe strode boldly into the dining-room with the child clinging to him 
and cooing contentedly. “Mrs. Turner,” he said, “I have a strange guest, 
this sweet little child that drifted into my office this morning from I know 


413 


JOE’S BABY. 

not where nor how she got there. The first I knew of her presence she was 
tugging at my trousers and trying to climb my leg. At first I thot it was a 
cat that had gained access to the office in some way. There was nothing for 
me to do except take the child up and care for her until her parents could 
be found. I am of the opinion that the child was put in the office by its 
parents or by some miscreant who stole it from its home and for some 
reason or other wished to get rid of it; however, the poor little waif has 
found the door to my heart and I wouldn’t take the world for her. I have 
decided to act like a civilized human being and adopt the child and give it 
my name and bring it up decently—and I don’t care what the gossips say! 
Let them babble all they want to—it’s no crime to adopt a child, and I 
already love the little thing, and she seems so happy and contented with me. 
I assure you on my word of honor as a gentleman that the child is not 
related to me in any way, and I have no knowledge as to how it came in 
my office;” and Joe straightened up to his height and gave his landlady a 
look of defiance that was plainly a challenge. 

“Mr. Nilewood,” she replied, ‘‘it is a most remarkable event and 
seems to defy all explanation, but as there is no harm done anyone, and as 
you say you have adopted the little waif, there seems nothing to do but 
make the best of it; so we will try and help you out of your awkward 
dilemma.” 

‘‘Thank you, Mrs. Turner, for your humanity and sensible view of 
the matter. I’ll pay you well for anything you do for the child,” said 
Joe, gratefully. 

Just then Julene came in and held out her pretty dark-skinned arms 
toward the little waif and cooed at her. The child smiled back at Julene 
and cooed her “W-o-o-n-a” as before, and reached out her tiny hands 
toward the maid, who took her and began to mother the little orphan in 
true maternal style. ‘‘Oh! isn’t she just the cutest and sweetest little thing 
in all the world?” cried Julene. Then she held the baby up toward Mrs. 
Turner, and the child just cooed and smiled at her and reached out its little 
baby arms toward the landlady. This was the last straw that touched 
Mrs. Turner’s maternal instincts, and her dignified face at once softened, 
and she reached out for the child and took it and pressed it to her heart 
and rubbed her face against its face, and the way the little baby put its 
arms around her neck and squeezed and loved her and cooed the elfin 
word “W-o-o-n-a" won the landlady to the child for all time. 

‘‘I have named her Woona, as that seems the only word she knows,” 
explained Joe, ‘‘and she is now Woona Nilewood;” and the little elf 
seemed to understand what was being said, for she extended her tiny arms 


4 H 


RED KLOVER. 


out toward Joe and smiled in her irresistible way. Joe took her, and after 
pressing her to his heart and mothering her in his uncouth way, tossed her 
up in the air; and the way she did enjoy this play-exercise and just cooed 
and smiled at them all! The little waif now had four staunch and loyal 
friends—Joe, Mrs. Turner, Julene, and Jasper. 

“Oh, Senor Nilewood! I just know that we will all love the child;’’ 
and Julene again took the little one from Joe and tossed her up and played 
with her. It was arranged for the child to sleep with Julene, as the maid 
begged to be allowed that pleasure. 

Joe was now very happy, and felt like telling the whole world to go 
straight to—well. Fort Worth will do. He was up early the next morn¬ 
ing and the little stranger was up and playing around in the dining-room 
and in the reception-room. As soon as she saw Joe, she just screamed with 
delight and ran to him and held out her pretty brown arms and cooed to be 
taken up. What joy this brought to the strong man’s lonely heart, as he 
gathered the child to his bosom and just loved and cooed to her like a 
young mother crooning over her first-born! Breakfast was soon ready, and 
Joe insisted on keeping the child on his lap and feeding her. This sight 
was a rich morsel for the women boarders, and soon all the gossiping 
tongues in town were wagging at a furious rate. Very few of the towns¬ 
people believed Joe’s story, but as they had nothing to the contrary, all 
they could do was to wait—and gossip. There was nothing in the law to 
prohibit anyone from adopting a child if he or she so elected. Joe’s manly 
and humane stand and attitude toward the little waif soon won the more 
liberal and civilized ones over to him. 

Joe had never attended church since running away from his Uncle 
Henry’s, but now he understood the beautiful and touching words of the 
Teacher of Galilee: “ Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid 
them not; for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." Each word of this 
beautiful sentence now seemed like baby fingers twining around his heart 
and growing zig-zag across his soul. The church people were the ones 
who were the loudest in their sneers and denunciations. Those who had 
the least religion had the most humanity. 

When Joe was ready to depart for the office, Woona just could not 
be pacified—she just moaned and cried to go with him, and he took her 
with him to the office. On the way down he bought some fruit and sugar, 
and he knew where to get real cream; so the kid was supremely happy and 
played around the office perfectly happy and contented; and every day 
she played herself farther into Joe’s great heart. They became inseparable 


JOE’S BABY. 415 

and Joe found time to teach her many things. She was exceedingly bright 
and learned as if by intuition. 

It wasn’t long till the railway officials heard of Joe’s find, and one 
morning the Superintendent and Roadmaster dropped off No. 2 to pay 
Joe a brief visit. These strong and hardy men were true Westerners, and 
the sight of the pretty little waif contentedly playing about the office at 
once touched their great hearts. Mr. Melvin, the Superintendent, went 
over to the child and held out his hands toward her and cooed at her. 
She seemed to intuitively recognize everyone who was friendly and sincere, 
for she immediately tottered to her feet and ran to him with her pretty 
brown hands extended and cooed softly at him. That settled it; for if 
there was anything soft and tender about the hard and precise business man 
of the world, it was the love of children and a deep respect for all good 
women. He reached down and picked the little waif up, and she nestled 
her little face up against his and hugged him ardently and softly cooed and 
smiled at him with her deep and weirdly brilliant eyes that just danced 
like the stars at a primeval picnic. 

“Why, Mr. Nilewood, she’s a wonderful child—a real mascot!” 
and the official shook Joe’s hand in a way that made it all right so far as 
the company was concerned. “Are you trying to find the child’s parents?” 
tentatively asked the Superintendent. 

“No; I’m not a bit anxious to find them, for the child has captured 
my heart and I should hate awfully to have to give her up;” and then he 
reached down and took her up in his arms and pressed her to his heart. 

“I sure don’t blame you, Joe,” softly said the Roadmaster, and he 
was struggling with some vagrant tears that just would come to his eyes. 
He had lost his wife and only child, a pretty little girl about three years 
old, a few years ago, and the old wounds were reluctant to heal. He 
looked hungrily at the child and asked Joe if he wanted to adopt her out. 

“Not on your life!” exclaimed Joe. “This kid’s a part of me—the 
best part, and I wouldn’t give her up for the whole world;” and the child 
squeezed him tighter than ever, for she seemed to intuitively understand 
everything. 

After the two officials returned from a trip around town among the 
business element, they returned in time to take No. 5 back to El Paso. 

“Joe, the people are certainly enjoying your role as stepfather to a 
castaway, as they designate the child;” and the Superintendent smiled 
good-naturedly. “It’s all right tho, my boy, and I’m proud of you and 
the stand you’ve taken; so just pay no attention to the gossips and heathen.” 

“I don’t intend to. I’ve merely done my duty, and am well satisfied 


4 i6 


RED KLDVER. 


with my role—even if it is a little novel and startling,” replied Joe. 

"You’re a real 100 per cent man, Joe, and I’m proud to call you 
my friend, said Mr. Peters, the Roadmaster, as they departed. 

Chapter V. 

A MINISTERIAL CALL. 

Joe was now the happiest man in Texas—the railway officials were 
with him and endorsed his humane action in promptly adopting the child; 
and Mr. Peters even wanted to adopt the child. Almost every day Woona 
accompanied Joe to the stopo and remained till he carried her home at 
night. He stocked the office with the few things the child needed to eat, 
and it was a pretty sight to see the strong man mothering the wee bit of 
driftwood humanity that Fate had wafted to his door. He fairly wor¬ 
shiped the child and never tired of her. She grew right into his great 
heart, that had been so empty and hungry before she drifted into it and 
thus changed his whole life. The story soon became known in railway 
circles, and every trainman that ran thru Pecos soon loved the little waif 
and would play with her when he had a minute to spare; and oh, the candy 
and fruit and toys and things they brought the kid! and how supremely 
happy was the little fairy elf! Only the pious Christians, who professed 
a belief in Christ and His humane teachings, refused to recognize the child 
and say a kind word to her. She soon was known from Los Angeles to 
New Orleans as “Joe s BaLp,” and every railroad man and toolt (com¬ 
mercial traveler) was crazy about the kid. Not one of them but would 
have gladly adopted her if he had a chance to do so. And Joe rose in 
their respect and good opinion on account of the manly way he was stand¬ 
ing by the little waif. The kid grew rapidly and learned everything as if 
by magic. Before she was three years old she knew the alphabet and could 
talk plainly. She soon knew every railroad man that worked thru there, 
and could call each one of the boys by name or by his nickname, and this 
greatly pleased these ruff but manly fellows. She called Joe “Dadd]; /oe,” 
and this was very sweet and pleasing to him. As long as he had Woona’s 
love and the respect and good opinion of his fellow-railroadmen and the 
officials, he didn’t care a damn what the pious but soulless hypocrites thot 
about the matter. 

One day No. 8 (a freight) was pulling in, and Bob Weston, a short 
and stubby brakeman, dropped off the front end of it as it was passing 
the stopo, and Woona happened to be standing in the door, and she ran 
out to him waving her hands and hailed him with: “Hello, Blobby /” 
This caused the ruff fellow to nearly die with laffter, and he gathered the 


417 


JOE’S BABY. 

kid up in his arms and carried her into the office and said to Joe: “Joe, 
this dauter of yours hailed me as Blobby!” 

“She has the Chinese habit of getting plenty of /’s in her words;’’ 
and Joe patted her head and “ Blobby ” continued to love her and pet her. 

Weston also had some shelled pine-nuts for her, and of these she was 
very fond. Whenever he went thru Pecos he was hailed as ‘‘B/oibhp,” so 
the trainmen, and even the Roadmaster and Superintendent, came to call 
him “ Blobby .” And that “ Blobby ” was the sweetest music to Bob 
Weston. 

About seven months after Joe had acquired his little treasure a 
meddlesome Methodist minister of the lidding variety called on Joe in com¬ 
pany with three antiquated females of the same snooping species. They 
were very pious and believed that the Deity needed their services and advice 
in running the universe. They believed that everything needed to be lidded 
except their own meddlesome noses. Joe and Woona and Julene were out 
on the grass up at the boarding-house one Sunday afternoon when these 
four soulless fossils hove to and looked askance at the child. 

The minister very stiffly addressed Joe thusly: “Ah—er—Mr. Nile- 
wood, we have been doing much thinking about your strange case and have 
asked God’s guidance in the matter, and we feel it our duty to tell you 
that you should send that—er—stray child to an orphan asylum, where 
it can be raised in the fear of the Lord;” and the pious old renegade and 
calico-chaser crossed himself and rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed 
deeply. 

“Yes, Brother Nilewood,” chipped in one of the old ladies, “the 
child surely needs the care of a woman and to be brot up under Chris¬ 
tian influences.” 

Joe just stared at these loathsome meddlers in astonishment, and his 
face went white and his teeth set like a bob-cat’s as it is eyeing a dog that 
has it treed. “And I think that you meddlesome hypocrites had better go 
home and mind your own business—if you have any, and if you haven t 
any, get something legitimate to do,” he said. ‘‘You are only cold and 
soulless jokes masquerading in the name of Christ. The great Teacher of 
Galilee never said a word about putting little children in orphan asylums, 
where heartless Christians starve and work them to death and then piously 
call it ‘a Christian education’!” 

“But you say you don’t even know who -the mother of the—-er— 
child is,” persisted the Rev. Noseum. 

‘‘No, and I don’t care a damn who she is,” answered Joe; but I 
do know who the mothers of two of your illegitimate and deserted children 


418 


RED KLOVER. 


are—back in Indiana, where you used to disgrace the Master by your 
libidinous and unmanly conduct. Mrs. Marguerite Sloan is the name of 
the mother of your son, and Mrs. Agatha Blum is the mother of a dauter 
by your saintly self. Why don’t you have them sent to an orphan asylum? 
And if these good souls and fellow-snoopers of yours want the present ad¬ 
dresses of those two women, I can supply them with the same.” 

‘‘Sisters, I reckon we’d better be going, for this seems to be no place 
for the Lord’s workers to tarry.” And the four quietly blew away. 

“Oh, but wouldn’t I like to have tickled that pious old tarantula 
with the butcher-knife!” exclaimed Julene in a rage of wrath. 

‘‘The idea of those pious and sanctified old cats saying the child 
needed the care of a woman! I wonder what she thinks we all are here?” 
and Mrs. Turner’s eyes flashed like vagrant lightning. 

Nearly all the women boarders were coming over and taking an in¬ 
terest in the child; and Mrs. Turner and Julene were as crazy about the 
kid as Joe was. She called the landlady “Tanty Tunner,” and Julene 
was designated as “Tant Jelene ,” and Jasper was “ Uni\y J a ff er "> but 
they all enjoyed these names from Woona. She was the mascot of the 
place, and it was indeed a hard heart that could keep the kid out of it. 
Besides being very bright and lovable, she was a natural musician and 
humorist, and said many unique and original things that kept them all 
laffing when she was around. Joe had taught her so many things that by 
the time she was five years old and started to school she utterly astonished 
the teachers and other pupils; and she was a real little athlete, as Joe had 
taught her everything he knew in the way of athletics and health. She 
could jump up and turn over and light on her feet like an old circus per¬ 
former, and could swim like a duck, and ride anything that went on legs, 
wheels, fins, or wings; and every dog and cat would instinctively follow her 
and play with the little hoiden; and she seemed absolutely devoid of fear, 
and had the most remarkable sight and hearing of any human that ever lived. 

Joe soon had a chance to get back at the Methodists. They had a 
big box of hymn-books, Bibles, and Sunday-school lesson leaves shipped 
in from the East, and when the Rev. Noseum sent a drayman down to 
the stopo to get the junk and tote it up to the church, he told Joe the Rev. 
Noseum said he’d “be down in a fetv days and pay the charges on it .” 

“Nothin’ doin’!” said Joe. “If they want that junk, they’ll have to 
come across with the cash first. They know it’s against the rules of the 
company to let anything go out till the charges on it are paid; they think 
they’ll sting me for the amount, but the mean, dirty-souled boobs have an¬ 
other guess drifting their way.” 


JOE’S BABY. 


4*9 


In a few days a rather good-looking young dame came down and 
was so polite and sugary to Joe that he didn’t realize what she was up to 
till she tried to get the stuff out without paying the charges. 

But you ought to favor the church, Mr. Nilewood, and be willing 
to help us who are working for the Lord,” brazenly coaxed the jade. 

‘‘If you boobs are working for the Lord, He ought to be able to 
pay his freight bills?” returned Joe sarcastically. 

You re just as hard-hearted as the heathen,” fired the damsel back 

at him. 

Perhaps, but I am not heathen enough to want to send a poor little 
orphan child to an asylum to be killed with Christian kindness.” This 
shot finished the seance, and the sky-girl slowly wended her way toward 
town. 

Now we will see if we can’t find out who Woona really was and 
how she came to Joe so mysteriously. 

Chapter VI. 

WOONA’S PARENTS. 

Yes, of course the child had parents, and her mother was still liv¬ 
ing and grieving her heart out over the loss of her child. She had been 
searching high and low for a little more than five years before she found 
a clew to the child’s whereabouts. . 

Pemberton La Verne was Woona’s father, and the child was born 
in Mexico. The mother was a Miss Elna Verlos, of Havana, Cuba. 
The father was mostly French, with a distant strain of Irish blood. The 
mother was a famous beauty and opera singer of Spanish and Indian ex¬ 
traction when she met Monsieur La Verne on a visit he was making to Cuba 
in the interests of a large firm in Montreal, with which he was closely con¬ 
nected as a partner. After a brief courtship, the young Frenchman won 
and married the singer in the Cuban capital, Havana. He took his bride 
with him on his journey, which also took in South America and Australia, 
and thence to San Francisco. They tarried in the California city a month, 
when he received a letter from his house to proceed forthwith to northern 
Mexico and look after their recently acquired mines and other valuable 
properties. The couple proceeded to El Paso, and thence into the land of 
trouble and beauty. About seven months after their arrival in Mexico 
they were blessed with a beautiful little dauter—our beloved little Woona. 
They were very happy, for the child was all and more than they expected 
—a wonder dream of beauty and exquisite loveliness. 

Soon after the birth of the baby wild and bloody revolution broke out 


420 


RED KLOVER. 


pretty much all over that unhappy land of natural wealth and unsurpassed 
beauty. Monsieur La Verne’s investments had turned out well, and he 
thus added many millions to his own pockets as well as to the credit of his 
partners. Everything was moving along like an oiled dream until Senor 
Villa and many other restless spirits broke loose and inaugurated a reign of 
terrorism—and against all foreigners. La Verne was captured and shot, 
and his beautiful and talented young wife was carried away by a young 
lieutenant of Villa’s, who was easily affected by female loveliness. A 
renegade American in his army stole the little girl one day while the army 
was resting near Juarez. He was tired of the life as an assassin of for¬ 
eigners, and had conceived a great liking for the child, so he took the kid 
with him and lit out for El Paso, Texas. He felt safe enuff after he 
got on American soil, but the Mexican officer who held the mother at once 
dispatched two officers after the fleeing kidnaper, with instructions to 
kill him if necessary, but at any rate recover the child and bring it back 
to its suffering mother. He was very solicitous of the mother; the fact is, 
he had an ax to grind and needed the kid to turn the grindstone for him. 
He realized the only way he could prevent the mother from killing her¬ 
self was to restore her child to her. 

Robert Stanton was the American who had abducted the child, for 
he figured that the mother would soop be killed, and then the kid would 
likely be dispatched in the same way. He lived with these renegades long 
enuff to understand them, and realized the danger that threatened the little 
girl, who was only one year and ten months old. Stanton happened to 
see the two officers from the guerrilla army across the border, and it didn’t 
take him long to guess what they were over on this side for. He had very 
little means and didn’t dare wait for a train east or north, so he stole a 
high-power car and proceeded to burn up the roads leading eastward. It 
happened that the owner of the car saw him whiz past and recognized his 
car; so he reported to the police, and soon the sheriff and two deputies 
were in hot pursuit in another car. The two Mexican officers had pro¬ 
cured mounts and were also on Stanton’s trail. As he only had about 
forty minutes the start of his pursuers, he realized that he had no chance 
for escape, and to be caught would mean a double charge against him— 
kidnaping and stealing a car. Stanton could easily see his finish in any 
event, and the kid would be lost to him anyway. He deserted the car 
about two miles above Pecos and carried the child down the river, and 
was just passing the station as he saw the agent (Joe) unlock and go in; 
so he hid around the comer, and when Joe went in and was calling the 
Superintendent and reporting on duty, Stanton slipped in and set the kid 


JOE’S BABY. 421 

down near the open door, and then beat it. The child naturally toddled 
on into the ofice and, as it was very hungry, tried to climb up in Joe’s lap. 

Bob Stanton walked slowly thru the residence section, and as he 
was passing a barn that opened out on an alley he looked in; all it con¬ 
tained was a cow that had not been milked yet that morning. Bob had 
a tin cup with him, and he soon had a light breakfast of rich milk. Then 
he climbed up in the haymow, and was soon asleep and dreaming of his 
old home back in Ohio. He remained in the barn and boarded with that 
cow for three days, and then he slipped out one morning directly after the 
train from the East came in. He mingled with the incoming passengers and 
sauntered up town and filled up at a restaurant—and it is a safe bet that 
he took coffee instead of milk- That night he took the train east and 
never stopped till he reached Fort Worth. There he got a job with a cattle¬ 
man and went right out to the ranch, where he intended to lay low till he 
got enuff to carry him back to Ohio. 

The American officers found the car and returned it to its owner, 
but didn’t make much of an effort to find the thief; in fact, they were too 
busy to waste much time on such small game; and as the owner had re¬ 
covered his machine, what did it matter? They did not know he had a 
child with him. They guessed that he was some poor devil escaping from 
Mexico, and their sympathy was with him. The Mexican officers did not 
reveal their errand to the authorities in El Paso, but counted on finding 
their quarry and quietly killing him, and thus getting the child without the 
American officers knowing anything about it. Of course, they found no 
trace of the fleeing Stanton in Pecos—nor any place else; so, after about 
a week, they gave it up and returned across the Rio Grande at another 
point. After about six months with the Mexican lieutenant and his gang, 
that cuss received a wound that put him out of the running, and Villa sent 
him back to Torreon. 

With the aid of two Mexican girls, Mrs. La Verne escaped to the 
American side one night, and soon found her way to El Paso. The lieu¬ 
tenant had told her truthfully that her child had been stolen by an Ameri¬ 
can and carried to the United States. He informed her that his men 
were on his track and she would soon regain her child, and then he promised 
to release her. He did not tell her that his emissaries had returned empty- 
handed and the search for the child had been abandoned. He pretended 
to receive reports from them, etc. After his wounds had caused him to 
be sent away, she learned the truth about the Mexicans returning with no 
clue as to the whereabouts of the lost child. She felt sure the child still 
lived, and her only mission in life was to find it. She immediately com- 


422 


RED KLOVER. 


municatecl with her husband’s relatives and partners in Montreal and ac¬ 
quainted them with the facts in the case. She had managed to secrete 
large sums of money about her person, and now had ample means to prose¬ 
cute her search for the baby. Her husband’s relatives came to her aid and 
furnished her all the means she needed and any other help she might need. 
She remained in El Paso for about three weeks, but could find no trace of 
Vencie, as the child was named. Then she gradually worked up to Los 
Angeles and remained there for more than four years, conducting the search 
from that delightful City of Eternal Summer. One day she and some 
friends were out to Pasadena, and while out in one of its beautiful parks 
she heard a conversation that passed between two railroad men who were 
on a short vacation and were out parking that day. 

“It is sure the most wonderful little girl I ever saw, and it is no 
wonder that Joe is just daffy about it,’’ said one of the men. 

“I sure must see that wonderberry the first time I go thru Pecos,’* 
returned his companion. “And no one knows where the child came from 
nor how she got in the stopo ?” continued the second man, Dave Spencer. 

“Not a thing is known about the kid—it just seemed to drop down 
from Heaven and creep right into Joe’s heart; and he wouldn’t take the 
world for the little elf—and neither would I if she were mine.’’ 

“You say Joe is also the mayor of Pecos?’’ 

“Yes, and as clean and as white a man as ever lived. Everybody 
likes him, except a few of the pious folks who think the child is his own 
and illegitimate. This is his second term as mayor, and he will surely 
be re-elected if he cares to run again.’’ 

Mrs. La Verne drank in these words like a traveler quaffs water in 
the burning desert. She pretended that she did not hear them, but every 
word was seared on her heart and brain. She hurriedly made arrange¬ 
ments to go to Pecos and interview the mayor, whom she just knew as 
Joe—the stopo agent and a very white and honest man. She felt sure 
the child that Joe had adopted was her own little Vencie. She was 
greatly relieved to know that her child was in such good hands. 

Chapter VII. 

JOE’S MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 

One fine morning in late April, when the atmosphere was redolent 
with the fragrance from millions of flowers, and the birds just seemed bent 
on serenading the whole world, a very pretty and distinguished-looking 
young woman alighted from No. 4 and quietly strolled into the waiting- 
room and peeped into the tilk (ticket office), and then stood and watched 


423 


JOE’S BABY . 

the train depart. It was about 1 1 :40 a. m. Joe soon came in with a 
couple of mail-sacks and some railway mail for himself. 

The strange and beautiful lady quietly rose and greeted Joe pleas¬ 
antly, and with a graceful bow inquired: “Senor, can you direct me to a 
good boarding-house—one that is first-class?” 

Why, yes, I reckon I can, as there is only one such place in town 
and I live there. I’m going up there in a few minutes and shall be pleased 
to show you the way and introduce you to Mrs. Turner, the landlady— 
and a very pleasant woman, too,” said Joe courteously. 

Joe was always more or less bashful and embarrassed in the pres¬ 
ence of a pretty woman, and he began to show signs of it now. Mrs. La 
Verne noticed that he was a little nervous and rattled, but she only en¬ 
joyed it—as a woman invariably does. 

‘‘Very well, Senor—” 

‘‘Nilewood,” supplied Joe, rather awkwardly; and then he did a 
good stunt at blushing, altho there was really nothing whatever to blush 
about. 

The beautiful little lady was polite and courteous and acted in a re¬ 
fined and kindly dignified way, as became her station and position. But 
still Joe’s nervousness and embarrassment increased with every word they 
exchanged. 

‘‘Who is the mayor of your beautiful little town?” easily went on the 
lady as they left the stopo and proceeded toward the boarding-house. 

‘‘Why—er— that is, / happen to have that doubtful honor;” and 
poor Joe blushed again more than ever. 

‘‘Oh, indeed! Then I’m doubly delighted to meet you. Mayor Nile- 
wood. What a beautiful name you have, Senor Nilewood;” and she 
beamed on him with such a bright and fascinating smile that he almost 
blushed his head off. 

‘‘Names don’t count for much out in this sand-blown wilderness,” 
replied Joe, with a desperate effort to get control of himself and appear 
natural and easy, as became the chief executive of the town; but his nerves, 
seemed a bit unmanageable. 

‘‘Oh, what a lovely location for a living-place!” exclaimed his com¬ 
panion as he pointed out the place away up near the sky-line and with a 
sweeping and commanding view of the Pecos valley for more than fifty 
miles to the south and about twenty-five miles to the north. 

‘‘Why, yes; it is—is very pleasant up there, and we always have 
a good breeze sighing thru the vines and trees;” and Joe looked far 
away to the great Invisible Valhalla just beyond the horizon. 


RED KLOVER. 


4 2 4 


“Ah! our good mayor is something of a poet and dreamer, I ob¬ 
serve;’’ and she gave him another look that almost lassoed his Nancy 
animal. 

“Oh really, no, Miss—’’ 

“Elna Verlos-La Verne,’’ supplied the little woman, with a smile 
that had Joe’s goat following it. 

“Oh! then you’ve been married?’’ politely asked Joe, before he 
realized what he was saying; but it was too late now. 

“Oh, yes; and my poor husband and I and our little girl were cap¬ 
tured by Villa’s brigands about five years ago. They shot my husband 
and held me a prisoner nearly six months, when I managed to escape to 
American soil by the help of two Mexican women. About a week after 
our capture, an American who was with the brigands stole our little Vencie 
and escaped with her to the States; but we have never been able to find a 
trace of him nor the child. I have searched high and low for the child, 
but have been unable to find the slightest trace of her. And oh, Senor 
Nilewood, my life is so empty without her!’’ and the poor distressed creature 
wept bitter tears. 

This was too much for Joe, and as he realized that he had at last 
found his little Woona’s mother, his emotions were indeed strange and 
intense. 


“You’ve surely had a bitter experience, madam, but I think I can 
soon restore your child to you;’’ and he gave her a look of tenderness that 
went straight to the bottom of her heart. 

“Oh, Senor Nilewood, you almost frighten me! Is it possible you 
have a clew to the whereabouts of my dauter?’’ and the poor soul-sick 
mother gave him such an appealing look that Joe immediately surrendered 
and returned a smiling and hopeful look. 

“Yes, Senora La Verne; I can do better than furnish you with a 
clew —I can place pour child in pour arms in a fe n> minutes!” 

“Oh, Senor Nilewood, you have made me the happiest woman in all 
the world! Tell me—where is my child?’’ and she was almost frantic 
with joy. 

“Well, I think she is up at the boarding-house, having a fine time 
and bossing the ranch and being spoiled by everyone;’’ and Joe tried to 
laff and look happy, but his heart was fast sinking into his boots as he saw 
his little idolized treasure slipping away from him—forever. 

Then Joe briefly related the finding of Woona, and how the little 
elf just crept right into his heart and won him, and how he adopted the 


/ 



JOE’S BABY. 425 

child and gave her his name, and how he came to give her the name of 
Woona. 

“Oh, how strange and beautiful, Senor Nilewood! and how I shall 
ever revere your name for the humanity you have shown my baby—but 
for you, she might have perished or fallen in evil hands!” and the happy 
mother sighed and clung to his hand like a trusting child clings to its 
mother. 

“I am so glad to have been of service to you, senora, but it will indeed 
be a blow to give up my little treasure now. She has been my very life 
now for nearly five years—in fact, the best part of me, and I just idolize 
the little thing. She just smiled her way right into my soul the first time 
I saw her, and now to give her up—” Here Joe’s throat filled up with 
something or other he tried hard to swallow, but it was no use; it just 
wouldn’t be swallowed, and the tears, those measley old tell-tale tears, 
just would seep and flow. 

“There, there, senor; it map not be necessary for you to lose the 
child at all;” and the mother smiled at him thru her happy tears. 

“Oh, I hope it won’t!” and the strong man shook like an aspen leaf 
with a spider cake-walking it. 

“Ah! there she is now, senora!” cried Joe as he spied Woona play¬ 
ing with a pet jack-rabbit in the yard. 

“Oh, what a big girl she is now!" was all the mother could find to 

say. 

“Why, to be sure—she’s nearly seven years old now, and growing 
like mesquite in the foot-hills.” 

“Hello, Woona!” was Joe’s greeting to his little pet. 

“ 'Elio, Daddy Joe!'* and her lithe little limbs just flew down the 
path to meet him and jump up and throw her pretty, graceful arms around 
his neck and just squeeze and love him all the way up to the house. 

Joe took her up in his strong and loving arms and carried her as he 
always did when she came to meet him. She had only just returned from 
the nearby school for her dinner, and had stopped to play with Pedro, as 
the rabbit was named. 

“Woona dear,” Joe said softly, “here is a lady that I want you to 
love and trust just like you do me, for she is your mother!" 

“Why, Daddy Joe! you said I had no mamma—you told me that 
you was all I had to love;” and the child looked at him quizzically, and 
then shyly glanced up at her mother, who was holding out both hands 
toward the child, with her heart in one eye and her soul in the other one. 

“Won’t you come and kiss mamma?” pleaded the happy woman. 


426 


RED KLOVER. 


But Woona hesitated, and went and clung to Joe, and asked him 
with her eyes: “/s she really my very orvn mamma , Daddy Joe P” 

“Yes, dear, she is your own mother, and is going to love you just like 
I do; so you must love her just like you do me and Julene—and the others. 
Go and kiss your mother now, and tell her that you will love and trust 
her;’’ and Joe kissed the child and led her toward her mother, who was 
waiting and holding out her arms toward the child. 

Mrs. La Verne’s eloquent and beautiful eyes pleaded for her soul. 
Woona hesitated a moment.longer, and looked the woman steadily in the 
eyes as tho searching her soul, and then she leapt into her mother’s arms 
and was just smothered with kisses and caresses, which she shyly returned, 
and then she hid her pretty head on the woman’s breast and sighed hap¬ 
pily. 

This strange and remarkable reunion of Mrs. La Verne and her lost 
dauter, after five years of separation, was witnessed by nearly all the 
boarders who were out on the wide veranda awaiting the summons of the 
dinner-bell. The dinner-bell nor any other bell would not have distracted 
their attention from this strange scene that was being enacted before their 
eyes; so, when Julene came out with her jingling bell, she forgot what she 
came out for and became one of the spectators. 

After the very affecting scene between the mother and dauter, the 
little elf took Joe’s hand in one of hers and her mother’s hand in her other 
one and thus marched them up to the portico, and calmly announced that 
she had found her mother at last—that “ Daddy Joe found her and brot 
her up to me.” Then Joe introduced the mother by her proper name and 
briefly explained the case. 

Mrs. La Verne bowed courteously to them all as she acknowledged 
the introduction, and said simply: “You can never know what joy I feel 
in finding my darling child again.’’ 

Mrs. Turner was introduced, and received the mother cordially and 
gave her a welcome that at once put her at her ease. As the house was 
full up, Joe at once placed his own room at Mrs. La Verne’s disposal, but 
Julene would not hear of that, and at once surrendered her own artistic 
little nest. 

“No, my dear,’’ said Mrs. La Verne; “I would not rob you of your 
room, but I will gladly share it with you, if you will permit?’’ and she 
gave Julene a look that made the little maid very happy. 

‘\Sf, senora; I should be delighted to share it with you—if you will 
be so gracious as to want me?’’ was her response. 


427 


JOE’S BABY. 

‘To be sure I want you, senorita; and Woona can sleep right be¬ 
tween us;” and a look of joy overspread her face like a summer dream. 

‘‘Oui, madam; and it will be a joy to have Mademoiselle Woona 
between us, for I love her as if she were my own child,” returned the little 
maid, with a fervent look in her pretty brown eyes. 

So it was arranged, and everybody was happy. And oh, what 
flower-scented dreams the Mayor of Pecos had that night; but that’s an¬ 
other story. 

Chapter VIII. 

TWO DREAMS THAT CAME TRUE. 

The Mayor of Pecos wasn’t the only one who had rainbow dreams 
that night—no, indeed! The beautiful little widow, Elna Verlos-La 
Verne also had some mighty roseate dreams that night with her little dauter 
in her arms—when the kid wasn’t in Julene’s arms. The child had al¬ 
ways bunked with the maid, and of course was very much attached to 
the girl, and Julene was just daffy about Woona; so it was a happy and 
beautiful night all around. 

They were all up bright and early as usual, and Woona sat at table 
that morning between Daddy Joe and her beautiful and distinguished 
mother, of whom the child was growing very fond. After breakfast Elna 
seated herself at the new piano and for an hour just simply poured out her 
soul in the divinest music ever heard in Pecos. She sang all the old love- 
songs she used to sing on the stage and in her own little dream nest in 
Los Angeles. The Mayor of Pecos was about forty-five minutes late that 
morning, but just how he explained it to the Superintendent is none of our 
business; so I’m not going to even ask Joe how he squared himself. And 
Joe was so upset and happy now he didn’t care anything about jobs. 
There were only two things in all this world that interested Joe at present, 
and they were Woona and her mother. How to keep them both with him, 
as well as in his heart, was the problem that was doing an elegant job 
of probing just then. ‘‘Ye gods! but isn’t she beautiful—and fair? No 
wonder Woona is a thorobred and can out-distance them all. And oh, 
how she can warbble! And, of course, she can also love just as ardently. 
Joe, old boy, it’s up to you to derail her before she gets out in the clear 
again. Oh, what joy if I can only win her and get to keep Woona!” 
and he fairly hugged himself with joy. 

At last Joe just had to kiss Woona good-bye and hurry to the stopo. 
She and Elna both promised to come down to the station that afternoon 
when school was out, and stay with him till closing time, and then walk 


428 


RED KLOVER. 


home with him. Ah! what joy this arrangement gave Joe all that day, 
and how he counted the minutes till they would arrive! 

At last he heard the sweet little voice he had become so used to for 
nearly five years, and when he detected another footstep with Woona’s 
his heart began to buck and scare like a nervous animal when it first sees 
a locomotive. 

“Hello, Daddy Joe! here we is;*’ and the little elf was soon in his 
strong arms and loving him like she always did on meeting him—either at 
the office or at the house. “And see what beautiful flowers mamma and 
I have picked just for you;’’ and she continued to love and kiss him and sit 
on his lap. 

The dispatcher was trying desperately to get Joe, but he just turned in 
“25” and forgot all about dispatchers and railroads—and everything else 
except Woona and Elna. But the dispatcher kept right after him and 
calmly disregarded his “25“ signal, which means, in railroad parlance, 
“The line is busy with other business.” Joe soon got the dispatcher’s 
troubles straightened out, and turned to his companions—and loved ones. 

“Papa, mamma and I just ain’t ever going to leave you, and we 
won’t let her ever go away again—will we?” and the child slipped her 
mother’s trembling hand into Joe’s nervous one, and said: “Now, you 
two just kiss and make up, for I need you both I** and she then wound a 
pretty arm around both their necks and just smiled and looked supremely 
happy. 

“I’m sure I’m willing,” embarrassedly admitted Joe, and he gave 
Elna such an unutterable look of love and entreaty that she just hung her 
pretty head and simply said, “Y-e-s.” 

Then Joe forgot that he was the Mayor of Pecos and the station 
agent and the express agent, and just gathered the beautiful Elna in his 
strong and hungry arms and murmured: “My precious love! My darling 
Elna! I love and adore you, and you have made me the greatest and 
happiest man on earth!” and he continued to squeeze and caress her. At 
the same time he folded one arm around Woona and drew her up to him, 
and said: “Little sweetheart, you will never again lose your mamma, and 
we will all three live together, and I will always be your Daddy Joe.” 

“Oh, Joe, my very own Joe, my love and all, you’ve made me the 
happiest woman in all the world! You’ve given back to me my little girl, 
and a husband at the same time. Was ever a woman so supremely happy, 

I wonder?” and Elna wound one arm around Joe and the other circled 
Woona in a fond embrace. 

Then Joe and Elna’s lips got tangled up in one of those primeval and 


JOE’S BABY. 


4 2 9 


vine-tangled kisses that just slip right thru the soul and clinch themselves 
on the other side—and then sing alto with the fragrance of the wild flowers 
and the sunset-silence of the Pecos hills. And oh, how Elna could play 
Ty Cobb ball at the kissing game! She was an artist of the Rubens 
school, and knew how to insensibly shade her kisses off into that fine and 
invisible soul-frenzy that gives life its immortal flavor. Then Woona got 
up on a chair and wound one arm around each of their necks and pro¬ 
ceeded to do a rare and radiant kissing stunt herself. First Joe’s cheek 
would get one, and then Elna’s blushing cheek would get one. The child 
was so transported with joy that they just had to pry themselves loose 
from her clinging embraces. 

“Oh, Daddy Joe and Mamma—’’ 

'Just mamma , dear ,” corrected Elna, with a painful blush. 

“But why won’t you be Mamma Joe ?” persisted the child, with a 
puzzled look on her beautiful and happy face. 

“Just because I won’t, darling. I’m just mamma—and nothing else.’’ 

“It’s about closing time, and when we get up to the house I suppose 
it will be up to me to announce the glad tidings?’’ queried Joe, with a look 
of embarrassment at his affianced’s face. 

“Yes, of course, you must inform Mrs. Turner and your intimate 
friends that your liberty is drawing to a close,” naively smiled Elna. Then 
they both laffed a jolly duet. 

“But when will the happy event take place?” blushingly asked Joe. 

“Well, under the peculiar and embarrassing circumstances, I suppose 
the sooner the better?” tentatively replied Elna. 

“It can’t be too soon to suit me,” smiled Joe happily. “I think to¬ 
morrow noon would be a good time, and I can see Judge Mason when he 
comes in on No. 2 to-morrow forenoon, and make arrangements for him to 
perform the ceremony. You and Woona can come down to the office 
about ten-thirty, and we will then go to the Judge’s office in the court¬ 
house and have it all over with by eleven; I will arrange with Mrs. Turner 
to have a bang-up wedding dinner ready for us at twelve, and after dinner 
we can all go down to the office and spend the afternoon together; and 
that night we will take in the theater. There, how does that strike your 
fancy?” asked Joe, in his open and breezy Western way. 

“You certainly know how to arrange things so as to give the grass 
no chance to grow under our feet;” and she slipped her hand in his and 
gave it the kind of a squeeze that knows where the heart is located. “I 
like your executive way, dear Joe, and you may go ahead and arrange it 
as you have outlined it to me.” 


430 


RED KLOVER. 


Then Joe locked up the stopo, and with Woona on one side of him 
and Elna on the other side the trio slowly and lovingly wound their way 
up the hill to Mrs. Turner’s. They were in no hurry, and gathered wild 
flowers along the way and mooned along like happy lovers always do. 
Time was never made for lovers—nor for happy people. They wished 
to arrive at the boarding-house after the other boarders were thru and out 
of the dining-room. Joe would find it much easier to make the announce¬ 
ment just to Mrs. Turner and Julene than to make it to the whole gawking 
bunch. When they arrived the others were all thru and gone, or were 
loitering out in the yard. 

Mrs. Turner and Julene were alone in the dining-room and quietly 
eating their suppers when the truants arrived, and Joe began to blush so 
confusedly that Mrs. Turner smiled broadly and said: “Oh, we can guess 
what the good news is, Mr. Nilewood; but if you want to repeat it, we shall 
be delighted to hear it;’’ and then they all smiled, and poor Joe continued 
to blush like a school-boy trying to let the teacher know how much he 
likes her. 

“Well, Mrs. Turner, you’ve called the turn on the news I have up 
my—I—er—mean our sleeves;’’ and he looked happy and foolish at his 
soul-pard. “The event is scheduled to take place to-morrow at eleven in 
the county judge’s office, and of course I—er—I mean we should be 
pleased to have you and Julene as our witnesses.’’ 

“Oh! won’t that be grand?” exclaimed Julene as Woona climbed 
on her lap and just silently laid her pretty cheek against the maid’s face 
and looked happy. Mrs. Turner also gladly accepted the invitation, and 
also agreed to arrange the dinner to be given at 1 p. m.—after the others 
would be gone. 

The news soon leaked out, and a rumor knows how to travel fast— 
as we all know. When Joe and Elna and Woona were seen trying to 
slip into the court-house the next forenoon, it seemed that the whole town 
was there ahead of them. They had plenty of witnesses all right. The 
event caused the profoundest sensation that the little town ever had, and 
Joe had to remain and receive the congratulations of his fellow-townsmen. 
It was a memorable event, and even the city dailies played it up in big 
type on their front pages. Joe was about an hour and forty minutes late 
getting back to the stopo that afternoon. 

“What in the world is the matter, Joe?” asked the Superintendent 
as soon as Joe got back on the wire. 

“Oh! nothin’ much—just took a little while off to get married; but I 
promise it won’t happen again;” and Joe smiled at his own little joke. 


JOE’S BABY. 


43 i 


“Well, I hope it won’t happen again,’’ fired the Superintendent right 
back at him. “Accept my hearty congratulations and good wishes. Do 
you want a vacation and a honeymoon trip?’’ asked the Superintendent. 

“Not just now; but when my term as mayor expires, on May 10th, 
I’ll want a long vacation,’’ wired Joe back to him. 

Chapter IX. 

MAYOR JOE’S RESIGNATION. 

The Superintendent wired later that day that he would be down on 
No. 2 the next day and pay Joe a brief visit. That afternoon at the office 
was a very happy one for the three of them, and as Joe attended to his 
duties they planned their future. Joe was surely astonished when he learned 
that his wife possessed much valuable property and more than a million 
in cash. Her property holdings were easily worth two million. 

“Dear husband, I have just a dream of a little bungalow in Los 
Angeles, and it is already furnished and ready for us—and I should like 
to go there and live; and as I have many times more than we can ever use, 
we can just relax and be happy loving one another and educating Woona;’’ 
and Elna gave him one of those long and taste-forever kisses that keep the 
grass green and the flowers fragrant. 

“It is a very pleasant surprise, dear Elna, to learn that you are so 
rich; and as I also have enuff for us to live on, and am capable of mak¬ 
ing a living for us, I had no hesitancy in asking you to share my lonely 
life; but the greatest wealth I have or want is your love and Woona’s 
love and confidence. I didn’t know what real life and happiness is until 
she walked into my empty life that morning,’’ said Joe. 

“And your love of my child, and the noble way you took her in and 
adopted her and gave her your name, and shielded her from all slander, 
touched my heart to its uttermost depths and won its pent-up love and de¬ 
votion,’’ replied Elna. “I knew that you were a real man and civilized, 
and I consider myself lucky to find such a rare mate—one that I can 
love and respect at the same time. The possession of your love, dear Joe, 
is my greatest riches—my one treasure that cannot be taken away from 
me nor taxed.’’ 

So it was arranged for Joe to resign his job with the company when 
his term as mayor expired on May 10th, and to accompany his wife and 
Woona to the City of Eternal Summer to live. They kept the name of 
Woona, as no other name would do, but put the name Vencie in as a middle 
name; but she was always just Woona to Joe, and her mother never 
called her by any other name. She developed into a wonderful musician 


432 


RED KLOVER. 


and singer, and is still living and delighting her mamma and Dadd p Joe — 
the three happiest mortals that ever lived. 

The pious and bigoted wretches who wanted the poor little waif 
branded with the word “illegitimate” and placed in a public institution 
now realized their brutal and stupid mistake and felt thoroly ashamed of 
themselves—if they had enuff conscience to produce the feeling of shame. 
The meddlesome old Methodist who wanted Joe to place the child in a 
public institution had the nerve to try and censure Joe for not having his 
marriage take place in the M. E. church with him officiating; but Joe cut 
him short with: “Rev Sky-Chauffeur, go home and preach a real sermon 
on the text: ‘ Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not; 
for of such is the kingdom of Heaven .’ And I also suggest that you good 
Christians practice 1 the Golden Rule , of which you prate so much.” 

Elna was too intellectual and humane to be religious; so she and her 
husband agreed on everything, and Woona was only taught the truth and 
the great religion of Kindness and Humanity; and she blossemed into a 
perfect human flower, and drew all people to her by her intelligence, gen¬ 
tleness, and humanity. A large part of Elna’s wealth was used in help¬ 
ing poor and unfortunate children, and mothers who were unable to care 
for their little ones. Joe often spoke of his greatest and wisest investment— 
his love for that poor little waif and his humanity toward a homeless and 
helpless little child. 


LOVE gives the finishing touch of color to life—the 
Dream-Music for the Soul’s reverie—it’s the tipTeather 
on every wing—the sky-roof with star shingles—the Eternal 
Rainbow braided with Morning Glories and arching the 
world Forever 


The End. 




















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